


The Sovereign's Omega

by SmartPeach3



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartPeach3/pseuds/SmartPeach3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier's life is thrown into chaos when he learns that he is an omega and unable to inherit his father's estate. The Sovereign's Omega Finishing School may offer him his only chance at escaping his horrific stepfather by training him to marry the prince, but many other noble omegas are vying for the prince's hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first standalone fic! This is not as dark as the tags suggest. No actual rape, only non-consensual touching and attempted rape. Also, this technically has alpha/omega dynamics, but there is no heat. If you came looking for good smut, I am sorry, but I cannot deliver. The good news is that plenty of authors in this fandom can!

Ten-year-old Charles Xavier stepped lightly along the corridor that led to his father’s study, steeling his face against the annoyance that he felt at being _summoned_ there by his mother’s monstrous suitor. In Charles’s mind, the study would always be Brian Xavier’s, despite the recent arrival of its current resident. Charles stopped before the heavy wooden door, breathed deeply, knocked three times, and entered.

He expected to see the ugly face of Kurt Marko perched behind his father’s long-unused desk, polluting the room with a smile that could only be described as poisonous. How his mother could even think about marrying this man was beyond him, but perhaps her drinking had finally addled her wits beyond repair. Instead, he was greeted by the bored countenance of a man he liked even less: his mother’s doctor. Stryker had been called on by Lady Sharon Xavier shortly after the death of her husband to help her manage what she called her “rattled nerves.” Quickly diagnosing her with hysteria, a common diagnosis among omegas, he had prescribed opiates and had continued to provide them for the last five years. Combined with constant drink, the drugs left Sharon nearly comatose.

“If you are looking for Mother, she’s in the lounge,” Charles remarked curtly. _She’s staring at the wall like bloody always_ , he thought to himself. 

“I’m not here for her, son.” Charles seethed at the term of familiarity, of affection. This man had stolen his mother from him five years ago, and he had the nerve to call him _son_? Then, Stryker rose steadily from the expensive desk chair, and Charles sensed a change in the room. Danger. He turned to leave and saw the disgusting smile of Kurt Marko, who shut the door loudly and leaned against it, blocking Charles’s exit.

“I hardly think an examination is necessary, Marko. The boy couldn’t look more omega if you painted him like a common whore,” Stryker spoke from behind Charles. At the word “examination,” Charles shivered, hoping that the two men would not notice his discomfort.

“You would have said the same about his father, if you’d met the man. Xavier alphas have looked soft for generations. I can’t afford to risk it.”

“Then wait a few years. When he’s mature, the pheromones will make it obvious.”

“Patience is not one of my virtues.”

“Whatever you say,” said Stryker, and Charles felt a strong hand close around his wrist, yanking backwards and making his elbow twinge in pain.

Charles lashed out, kicked at Stryker’s legs, but soon found himself overpowered. Marko lunged and struck him across the face, and Charles felt the skin of his cheek break at the impact, tears welling in his eyes. He stilled in Stryker’s arms and was pushed back onto his father’s ancient desk, which had now become an impromptu examination table.  
Charles closed his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat, and his mind wandered to a time when he would sit on this very desk and watch his father seal important letters, showing Charles how to melt the wax for a seal and press it with the Xavier crest. He tried to ignore the hands at his belt, the rush of air on his thighs. But, he could not ignore the icy fingers that pressed into his abdomen and then traveled lower, one hand pushing up a knee and the other moving between his legs. He prayed to any god that would listen that he would be an alpha, that this examination would soon be nothing but an uncomfortable memory.

Stryker spoke calmly, ignoring Charles’s discomfort and nervous breaths. “I can definitely feel a cervix, Marko. It’s still underdeveloped. If I’d examined him even three months ago, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you accurately one way or another. But, it looks like you’ve got a healthy young omega. And a pretty one too. In future, I’d recommend you not mark up his face.” Stryker’s eyes flashed towards the darkening bruise on Charles’s cheek. “It will be easier to find someone to take him off your hands.”

“I might just keep him in the family. Cain won’t find a better match, and I can pay myself the bride-price.” Marko chuckled.

They continued to talk while Charles dressed, their voices fading into the background as he absorbed the new information. Omega. He could not deny it anymore. _You’re such a fool, Charles_. For years he had lied to himself about how his small build was a result of Xavier genetics or a delayed growth spurt due to his premature birth. He had entertained daydreams about becoming the alpha of the house, the new Lord Xavier to take his father’s place. Now, he was nothing but an omega, his only job to make a profitable match for the family and have a dozen children. He choked back bile when he thought of his likely husband, Marko’s giant oaf of a son. Cain was a fourteen-year-old alpha nearly three times his size. The Xavier name would die out, with Charles being the last to bear it, and the manor and its holdings would pass to the Markos.

“Charles, are you listening?” Charles turned to Marko at last, hoping his eyes would not give away his heartbreak. “You can run along and tell your mother the good news. You’ve saved me a lot of trouble, my boy.”

Charles fled from the room, beginning to lose his calm façade. He had no interest in seeing his mother, who was likely glassy-eyed and distant, pulled away from reality by the opiates. However, his childish instincts must have kicked in, because he soon found himself in the stuffy lounge, crawling onto her lap and burying his face into her bony shoulder. He finally spoke, and he cursed himself for the way his voice cracked. “I’m an omega, mother.” A tear fell from his eye onto the dusty lace at her collar.

Charles was prepared for apathy, or maybe disappointment. He did not expect his mother’s head to snap up, or her eyes to suddenly focus, looking more sober than they had in five long years. Her mouth twisted into a smile, her teeth looking large and square in her gaunt and once-beautiful face. Her eyes gleamed with what Charles thought looked like victory. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

Her moment of lucidity vanished as quickly as it had come, and Charles was left to wonder why his mother had been so pleased. He wanted to believe that his old mother had pushed through the opiate fog. The mother that loved him, the one who existed before his father’s sudden death, had reached out during his time of emotional turmoil to soothe her baby son and remind him that he was loved. But, something in that smile and the glint in her eyes made him wonder if the mother he remembered had ever existed at all.

The wedding of Lady Sharon Xavier and the wealthy merchant Kurt Marko was a small affair. Sharon’s drug use had not left her with many high-society friends, and the few people that dealt with Marko found him to be distasteful at best and a vile, double-crossing cheat at worst. A few business partners toasted Kurt’s happiness while an aging neighbor woman tended to Sharon’s wedding attire and steered her firmly away from the drinks.


	2. Chapter 2

Twelve-year-old Charles Xavier held his new baby sister in his arms. Despite her golden hair, the girl had, at his stepfather’s insistence, been named Raven after some long-dead great aunt. Charles’s frail mother shocked the countryside by carrying the girl to term, and the delivery had gone smoothly, by all accounts.

Charles looked at his surroundings. With Charles’s claim at inheritance destroyed by his status as an omega, Kurt had no trouble petitioning the Crown to name him Lord Marko, making him Charles’s legal guardian. The Xavier crests had fallen across the manor, and the ugly crest of the newly formed House Marko replaced them. Marko hired a sullen staff to lurk in the doorways and await his every command. Looking down into stunning blue eyes, Charles decided that Raven was the only decent thing to come of this marriage.

“You’re a lovely little thing, aren’t you?” Charles cooed. “Shocking, really, considering your parents.”

Suddenly, Cain entered the nursery, his hulking form pressed against Charles’s back. Charles tensed, remembering the feeling of Cain’s fist against his ribs, where a yellow bruise had still not healed from last week’s beating. Cain had become more violent as Sharon reached the end of her pregnancy, childish feelings of envy causing him to lash out at his weaker stepbrother. Cain’s hand lurched forward, and he flicked Raven across the forehead, hard enough to leave a red welt between her eyes, which welled with tears.

Charles yelled over Raven’s cries. “How could you do that? Are you jealous of the new baby, taking all of mummy and daddy’s attention?” Charles mocked without thinking, enraged. “Are you sure you’re sixteen?” Charles sneered. “You’re acting like a six-year-old brat! I’ve never met such an emotionally stunted, hateful person in my life.” Charles bent to return his sobbing sister to her bassinet, and before he could stand, he felt one of Cain’s large hands press between his shoulder blades, the other traveling beneath his waistband, groping clumsily.

“You forget yourself, Charles. You belong to me. Or, you will soon.” Charles fought against the weight pressing into his back and turned, finding himself face-to-face with his stepbrother. He spat into the taller boy’s face and ducked out of his grasp, running from the room. But, Charles was slower and smaller, and Cain met him on the stairs. Charles processed the next few moments in slow motion. Cain shoved the small of his back, knocking the wind from his lungs and causing Charles to pitch forward. Charles reached for the banister, but his hand slipped on the freshly polished surface, likely recently cleaned by one of the dejected maids. He tumbled, felt a sharp pain in his right leg, and woke on the lower landing to see a servant standing over him, face filled with terror.

Stryker returned to the house, having just attended Raven’s surprisingly uncomplicated labor three nights prior. He diagnosed Charles with a compound fracture, which any fool could do, as the bone was protruding from his calf.

“He ought to be taken to a hospital, Marko. This requires surgery if he wants to walk without a limp.”

“Anything that needs to be done can be done in this house. I’d rather not let this injury become public knowledge.” Cain, who was standing in the corner, had the decency to look sheepish at his father’s remark.

So, Charles was tied to a bed in an unused guest room, his leg angled for Stryker’s easy access. As Stryker laid out the tools of his trade, including several shining scalpels, Charles could not hide his fear. He struggled against his restraints, wincing as his movement twisted his damaged leg.

“Calm down. You know how I’ve taken care of your mother? Well, I promise I have something for you.”

And the drugs must have been good because Charles had no memory of the surgery, and any pain came later, during his long recovery. Stryker was a bastard, but he was an excellent surgeon, and he ensured that Charles would walk with all his usual grace, no limp to be detected. However, Charles would always have a long, white scar to serve as a grisly memento.


	3. Chapter 3

Thirteen-year-old Charles Xavier spent the morning of his birthday reading by the window. He nearly always had his nose in a book, in part because he enjoyed perusing his father’s extensive collection and in part because his nearsightedness required him to keep the page mere inches from his face. Cain, of course, teased him mercilessly for it. He was startled when a knock on the door sent ominous echoes through the house. He stood to greet the visitor, knowing that his mother was probably drunk out of her mind at the moment and that Kurt and Cain would not deign to open a door. He left his cane leaning on the armchair. He did not really need it anymore, as his recovery was nearing an end. In fact, he kept it now less as a mobility aid and more as a defense against Cain, should the brute attack him again.

Charles opened the door to find a young alpha, dressed in the garb of a royal messenger. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes. I must speak with the alpha of the house, a Lord Kurt Marko? And before you ask, I cannot leave my message with you. It is of the utmost importance that I speak with him.”   
Charles bristled at the insinuation, that the message was too important for a _silly omega_ , but he swallowed his pride. He had become quite adept at bottling up his rogue thoughts, fearing retribution from his stepfather if he got too mouthy.

“Come in.” Charles led the way to the lounge, where he was surprised to see his mother sitting, looking a bit dazed but much more alert than usual. “Please wait here, and I will get my stepfather.”

Charles soon returned with a grumbling Kurt Marko, who took a seat next to Sharon, looking at the messenger with intense displeasure.

“For what purpose do you interrupt my business?”

“Firstly, Lord Marko, I have been instructed to inform you that several correspondences have already been sent to this address on this matter. Did you not receive them?”

“They must have been lost in the shuffle.”

Charles used every ounce of his willpower to resist rolling his eyes. He knew quite well that “the shuffle” was a pile of unread mail on his father’s old desk that Kurt was too lazy to read. Letters entering the Marko household generally spent three weeks on that desk before being fed to the fire.

“Be that as it may, the content of the letters was quite urgent. Are you aware that, in three days time, Prince Erik Lehnsherr will celebrate his sixteenth birthday?” Kurt’s face remained bored, but Charles noted with surprise that his mother perked up, clearly interested.

“Well, hurrah for him. Why does that concern me?”

The messenger looked a bit ruffled by Kurt’s indifference.

“Surely you are aware, sir, that according to law and the tradition of this great nation, every unwed noble omega born within three years of an alpha prince must report to the Sovereign’s Omega Finishing School on or before the prince’s sixteenth birthday in order to be trained as the future consort.” _What? How have I never heard of this tradition?_ Then again, as Charles had lacked a true parent since he was five years old, he should not have been so surprised at his own ignorance.

“I am no fool. I know the tradition.”

“Well, sir, the records show that an eligible omega resides here and that you are his guardian. I have come to collect him.” The messenger turned to Charles. “You are Charles Xavier, I presume?” Charles nodded, finding it difficult to speak.

“This is a mistake. Charles is too young. He can’t be more than eleven years old.”

At this insult, Charles was finally able to speak. “Excuse me, but, as of this morning, I am thirteen years old. Thanks so much for remembering.”

The look on Kurt Marko’s face told Charles that, had they not been in polite company, he would have received a slap for his impertinence.

“Hold your tongue, boy!” Marko turned back to the messenger. “I will not allow Charles to leave. He is engaged to my son Cain, so he is unavailable to go to this finishing school.”

“My Lord, he is obligated to go.” The messenger’s tone became placating. “I understand that you do not want to part with him, but this situation benefits you. Only five omegas from the school will be deemed worthy enough to meet the prince, and those five are guaranteed marriages with noble alphas in the capital. All of the other omegas return to their families a few years older and a good deal more accomplished than they were. The program is intended to last four years, until the prince turns twenty and is ready to accept a consort, but most of the omegas fail and are expelled far sooner. In all likelihood, Lord Xavier will return in a year or two with vastly improved skills in embroidery and dance, and he will be a much more valuable match for your Cain.”

Sensing that he had nearly won Marko over, the man added. “And all this will be at the expense of the state, of course.”

Before Marko could answer, Sharon spoke, with more enthusiasm than she had managed to muster for any event in Charles’s recent memory, including the birth of her daughter.  
“Of course he shall go.” Her eyes shone with pride. “He was born for this.”

“Quiet, woman,” snapped Kurt. But, he soon relented. “Charles, pack your things. You’re going with this man to your new school.”

As Charles rose to do as he was bidden, his mother grasped his elbow reassuringly and smiled her usual grim smile. “My lovely Charles. I expect you to do well at school, you understand? You will do well for Mummy, right?” He hardly knew how to respond to that.

The entirety of Charles’s belongings fit easily into a single trunk, as his stepfather had little money to spend on a stepson he disliked, and most of his clothes had either been outgrown or fallen to rags since Marko became the head of the family. The messenger took Charles’s trunk to the carriage outside, tactfully allowing Charles some time to bid his relatives goodbye, though Charles had few words to say to any of them.

Instead of wasting his breath on people who felt no affection for him, Charles spent his last moments in Marko manor holding his little sister and bouncing her in his arms. When he tickled her stomach, she squealed, “Charles!” 

Charles had felt a bit smug when, a few weeks earlier, Raven had uttered his name as her very first word. It had remained her favorite exclamation, which annoyed Kurt Marko to no end. Aside from the pleasure he took at hearing his name said with such reverence, Charles was relieved that Raven was so alert and chatty. He had done his best to keep his mother away from alcohol while she was pregnant, but he knew that an addict like Sharon Marko could not be trusted to go nine months without indulging. He took Raven’s babbling as a sign that she had not been poisoned too badly by drink.

“Goodbye, baby girl. I hope to see you very soon. I would take you with me if I could.” He planted one final kiss to her forehead and then left to say farewell to the few people who would even notice his absence. First, he would go to the cook, a woman named Betsy who was the last remaining staff member from the days when Brian Xavier was head of the estate. Then, he would go to his mother.

He paused outside of the kitchen when he heard hushed voices from inside. One was Betsy, and the other was a maid whose name he had never learned. He was honestly surprised any of the staff spoke to each other, as they seemed so gloomy most of the time.

“I’ve never seen the mistress so pleased. Though, I’m not so sure her smile improves her face, if I’m to be honest. She looks ghoulish,” said the maid.

“Of course she’s happy,” Betsy said in her warm voice. “She’s been waiting for this moment for years. It was quite the scandal when the young master was born.”

“Scandal?”

“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten you’re new here. This is old gossip, the only thing the countryside could talk about for weeks. Don’t you think it a bit odd that Master Xavier was born so close to the very last day of eligibility?”

“Not so strange. Coincidence, more like.”

“You don’t know the circumstances of his birth, then. Lady Marko, then she was Lady Xavier, was the healthiest woman you’ve ever seen while with child. She was plump as anything and never sick for a day of it, if you can believe it. Then, all of a sudden, she goes into labor well over a month early. Nobody thought Charles would live. You’ve never seen such a tiny babe, and with skin so jaundiced he looked as orange as a pumpkin.”

“Poor thing! You’d never think it to look at him now, would you?”

“No, I daresay he’ll be a beauty when he’s through. Anyways, we never could prove it, but the story goes that Lady Marko induced her own labor that day. I don’t know how she did it, but she made sure that baby was born before the three years was up.”

“But, why? She had no way of knowing that the young prince would be an alpha, or that her own baby would be an omega.”

“That’s the kind of woman she is. Or was, before the drugs. Too ambitious for her own good and willing to put her own baby’s health at risk for the tiniest chance of being the mother of a king’s consort. She’s always wanted to be royalty, and she ended up married to the lowly Lord Xavier, may he rest in peace. That baby was her only chance.” Betsy finished her speech with a sigh.

Suddenly, Charles could not face the cook, though she had been his only friend in the years after his father died, while his mother wasted away before his very eyes. And he certainly had no desire to speak to his mother. _I’m so proud of you, darling_. Charles remembered those words and her awed expression when his status as an omega had been revealed. _Good riddance, Mother. May you love Raven more than you loved me, if you were ever capable of feeling anything at all_.

Charles wiped the tears from his face as he stepped into the sunlight of the early afternoon. _How can it be this early? The messenger’s knock on the door seems a lifetime ago_.

Charles hoped that his eyes were not reddened enough to betray his sadness, or that any detectable tears might be attributed to his reluctance to leave his family. He gave a weak smile to the messenger, who must be doubling as a driver, and stepped into the waiting carriage. 

He was surprised to find the carriage already occupied by a pretty, if somewhat mousy, brunette and a blond boy whose scowl could rival those of the morose servants at Marko manor. The blond was the first to break the silence.

“Good lord, are they recruiting toddlers for this ridiculous enterprise?”

The brunette elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and Charles, thankful to have his honor defended by a stranger, took the seat next to her immediately.

“I’m thirteen as of today, if you must know,” Charles said. 

The brunette turned her chocolate eyes on him and spoke. “Please ignore my cheery friend. He’s unhappy to be here, as you might have gleaned from his sour countenance. I’m Moira MacTaggert, and my companion is Alex Summers.”

“Lovely to meet you both,” Charles said, deciding to be civil to Summers, as he had few friends. “I’m Charles Xavier. Tell me, Lord Summers, what are your grievances?”

“Please, call me Alex. Well, I am simply acutely aware that my presence at the Sovereign’s Omega Finishing School is highly unnecessary, as I am nearly sixteen and am hopefully as ‘finished’ as I will ever be. Moreover, I resent being legally obligated to transform myself into the plaything of some rich lord I’ve never met.”

Charles thought Alex, though a bit prone to melodrama, had made some valid points, and he was surprised when Moira giggled in response to the monologue. “Drop the act, Alex!” She turned back to Charles. “Don’t let him fool you with his ramblings on omega rights. He’s just being a petulant brat because he’s been separated from his beau.”

Alex blushed. “Thanks, Moira. Thank you ever so much for airing my private business with a perfect stranger. He’s not my ‘beau.’ We’ve been as good as engaged for years now, and if the daft idiot hadn’t decided to do a term of military service, I’d be married by now and no spoiled prince could drag me away.”

Charles spoke. “I’ve had an understanding with an alpha now for about three years, and I can tell you I’m more than thrilled to abandon our engagement. I don’t need to marry a prince. I’m sure nearly any other alpha would be an improvement on Cain Marko.” His nose wrinkled involuntarily at his stepbrother’s name.

“Knock on wood,” Moira said, favoring Charles with a wink.

Alex spoke next, his frown finally beginning to soften. “Well, I’m glad someone is benefitting from this. If you don’t mind me asking, where did you pick up your accent? When Moira and I learned we’d be retrieving a minor omega lordling from the countryside before arriving at the school, I half expected a dim-witted philistine, but you sound more posh than the king.” Moira glared at Alex’s impertinence, but Charles merely laughed.

“My mother is from a very noble house in the capital, though I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting those relatives. My father married well above his station, and I’ll never know how he managed it. I like to think that her accent is her only contribution to my character and that I am otherwise very much my father’s son.”

The conversation soon lulled, and Charles eventually drifted off on Moira’s shoulder, waking up only when she jostled him to whisper, “Come along, Charles. We’ve arrived.”


	4. Chapter 4

Fifteen-year-old Charles Xavier awoke prepared for another grueling day at the finishing school, but soon remembered that, for the first time in two years, no classes were being held. The day was reserved for family visitations, which would mark the students’ first contact with their loved ones in two full years. Charles would soon see his baby sister, and he kept trying to imagine what she would look like as a chubby three-year-old.

The Sovereign’s Omega Finishing School was, in his estimation, brilliant. As an omega from a family with no great wealth to speak of, Charles could never have expected to gain an exceptional education. This school was as close as he would ever come to a four-year university. As such, he was willing to grit his teeth through classes on deportment and etiquette and conversation and embroidery and piano and dance just for the satisfaction of a few hours each week spent studying history and science and economics and politics. He was ranked first among the noble omegas academically despite being the youngest student among them. He performed nearly as well in his lessons on social graces and was even quite competent on the piano, though he was loath to play the role of the accomplished, fashionable omega. He shared these feelings with Moira and Alex frequently, as they had remained his loyal friends.

“Sometimes I think that ‘accomplished omega’ is simply a socially correct way of saying ‘dancing monkey.’” He complained one day, to Moira’s delight.

It was important to make light of the situation they found themselves in, as the school’s demanding schedule left the students exhausted. Many omegas cracked under the pressure, and those who did poorly in their studies were sent home to their families, disgraced. During an interminable dance lesson, a poor girl stumbled one too many times over the complicated steps and was expelled immediately. The instructor, an omega named Janos, was famously short-tempered. The man was also the headmaster, and though he insisted that the students call him Janos instead of Headmaster Quested, he was anything but casual. He relaxed the rules for no one.

The most toxic part of the school was its obsession with beauty. Only the fairest omegas would be presented to the prince, and they were kept on a strict diet and exercise regimen to preserve their figures. Several omegas developed eating disorders, and those who were caught purging were sent home just the same as the ones who were deemed overweight. More than one student had been sent home merely for having unsightly acne, and Charles thanked every god listening that his skin was naturally clear. Omegas with disfigurements had not been allowed to enroll at the school at all, and for a few heart-stopping moments after his arrival, Charles believed he would be sent home for the jagged and ugly scar on his leg. In the end, the school officials decided he was beautiful enough to continue his studies, but he was instructed to always cover his leg. Even during the summers, when it was fashionable for young omegas to wear shorter skirts and pants, Charles was expected to wear trousers or long tunics.

All told, half of the roughly fifty noble omegas that had enrolled in the school two years prior had already been eliminated as possible matches for the prince, either for their failings in their schooling or for the inadequacy of their appearance. Some omegas left with heads held high, and some screamed and sobbed on the way out, but one by one the field was narrowing. 

Charles breakfasted with Moira and Alex, the cafeteria abuzz with nerves.

“Will your families be visiting today?” He asked, hoping that conversation would lighten the mood.

“My family can’t make it, sadly,” Moira replied. Charles was not surprised, as the MacTaggerts lived in one of the most remote manors in Genosha.

“I’m sorry my dear, and, if I thought it would help, I would promise to share my terrible family with you.” Moira smiled, a bit weakly.

“Well, I’m expecting my brother Scott, though I don’t care much for his company. More importantly, I’m expecting a special friend,” said Alex, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Alex, keep your voice down!” Charles warned. _How he has managed to keep this great love a secret from the school officials for two years is a mystery to me_ , thought Charles. The school had required the omegas to make a vow of chastity and had strictly forbidden fraternization with alphas, as the prince could only marry a virgin.

“Right, sorry! Anyway, Darwin has gotten leave to come and visit. I’ll say he’s a family friend, and no one will be any the wiser.” The rest of the meal took place in silence, anticipation filling the room.

When the families arrived, Charles was shocked to see that his mother had come unaccompanied except for the tiny blonde girl who wiggled out of her arms immediately and ran as fast as her short legs could carry her to Charles’s embrace.

“Charles!” Raven screamed, hugging him and accidentally pulling his hair, which had grown past his collarbones. Long hair was now the fashion for male omegas as well as female, and Charles found it unendingly tiresome.

“Ouch! Hello, love!” Charles could see Moira laughing at him from over his sister’s shoulder.

“Charles, you look pretty!”

“Thank you ever so much. So do you,” he replied, poking her belly and eliciting another squeal of “CHAAARLES!”

His reunion with his mother was considerably colder. The thin woman’s eyes were trained behind Charles, who wondered what she could possibly be staring at with such interest. Then, he remembered the board that sat at the front of the cafeteria for all to see. It currently read:  
1\. Emma Frost  
2\. Jean Grey  
3\. Moira MacTaggert  
4\. Angel Salvadore  
5\. Ororo Monroe  
6\. Charles Xavier  
7\. Kitty Pryde  
8\. Alex Summers  
Sharon Marko’s eyes were narrowed in a way that Charles recognized as disappointment. Charles was unmoved.

“Mother, you can stop your ridiculous glaring. It won’t make the rankings any different.” He did not need her approval.

Charles had begun to accept that he would not be among the five who would be presented at the capital. Despite his success as a student, his scores in deportment and etiquette were merely average, and his beauty score, which was weighted most heavily, severely damaged his chances of meeting the prince. Many factors combined to give him a lower-than-necessary beauty score. Firstly, preference was given to female omegas, as their fertility was generally higher. The king’s consort had not been a male omega for six generations. Secondly, Charles was still too small to be considered a well-proportioned male omega. Finally, the scar on his leg, though Charles rarely noticed it day-to-day, was viewed as too unsightly for the husband of a king.

“No, darling. The only thing that could change your ranking is for you to work harder. Come along, Raven.” So, as quickly as they had arrived, the Markos were leaving. Raven began to cry, but Charles presented her with a particularly nice piece of embroidery, made in his vile needlework class, and she brightened considerably. He kissed her on both cheeks, nodded curtly to his mother, and turned away. He wiped his own tears on a handkerchief, which featured an equally stunning piece of embroidery.

Charles took his leave from Moira, who was conversing animatedly with Scott Summers, and went to take a walk around the expansive school grounds. He ignored Alex and Darwin, who were seated on a bench in the garden, a bit too close together to be strictly proper. He felt a twinge of jealousy at their happiness, followed by guilt that he would begrudge his friend any measure of joy.

The walk cleared his head, and he returned very late in the evening, sliding into his bunk beneath Moira’s. The sound of Moira’s deep breaths soon lulled him into a fitful sleep.

He awoke to the sound of shouting from down the hall. No light streamed through the window, revealing that it was not yet nearing dawn. He stood up from bed and saw Moira standing in the doorway along with a few other students who shared their room. He walked up to her, put a hand on her shoulder, and leaned into the hallway to investigate.  
What he saw made bile rise in the back of his throat. 

Alex was being dragged from his room, naked and shivering in the cool air of the hall. Janos pulled him back by his shoulders and threw him to the floor. In the doorway stood Darwin, also naked, and being held back by two of the younger omega teachers. Charles could barely understand what was happening until he saw a gleam of wetness on Alex’s thighs, evidence of his broken vow of chastity drying on his legs. _Oh, Alex, how foolish can you be?_

Janos lashed out suddenly, kicking Alex in the side repeatedly. Alex bit back a scream, but could not hold back a strangled moan of pain. Darwin tried to pull away from his captors, but was unsuccessful.

Janos spoke. His voice was low, but it easily commanded the attention of the terrified omegas lining the hallway, peeking in from every room. “Now that I have your undivided attention, I would like to remind you of your purpose here. It is not to receive a free education. It is not to make lovely young high-society friends. It is to study and train to be the spouse of our future ruler. One of you will one day be the most important omega alive. But, do not flatter yourselves that you have the privileges of noble alphas. You do not own yourselves. As long as you study here, you belong to the government and your bodies are the property of the prince. Defiling those bodies,” he turned pointedly to Alex, who was curled on the floor, “is the fastest way to be thrown out of this facility. Is that clear?” He did not wait for a response and instead turned to Darwin. “Get dressed, take your whore away from this school, and do not return. You both are very lucky that I am not having you arrested for lewd acts and destruction of the property of the Crown. Leave.”

And so they left.

The next day, Alex’s name had been erased from the board in the cafeteria, replaced by Anna Marie. No more was said on the subject.


	5. Chapter 5

Sixteen-year-old Charles Xavier sat in the very last class of his career at the finishing school, wondering how four years of his life had passed so quickly. After this lecture on the Genoshan parliament, Charles and the seven other students who had survived the full four years of training would be presented with diplomas to mark their status as truly accomplished omegas. _Fat lot of good being ‘accomplished’ will do me at Marko manor_ , Charles thought.

In one month, Charles would turn seventeen, and, more importantly, Erik Lehnsherr would turn twenty and would be expected to wed. The five most accomplished, fashionable, demure, and beautiful omegas would travel tomorrow to meet the prince and would have only a few weeks to win his favor. And the board still read:  
1\. Emma Frost  
2\. Jean Grey  
3\. Moira MacTaggert  
4\. Angel Salvadore  
5\. Ororo Monroe  
6\. Charles Xavier  
7\. Kitty Pryde  
8\. Anna Marie

When class was dismissed, Kitty cornered him and tried to brighten his spirits.

“I think I’m ready to leave this hateful place and just relax for a change, aren’t you, Charles?” she said, smiling up at him.

“Of course, love. I’m thrilled to see Raven again,” he replied, though he envied Kitty the happy home she would return to. Despite all his efforts to prove himself worthy of being presented at court, Charles would be leaving the next day for Marko manor. After a few weeks to become adjusted to living in his childhood home, his engagement to Cain Marko would be announced. He tried and failed to keep his mind from conjuring images of the brute in his marriage bed, and he hoped the resulting nausea was not evident on his face. Although, from Kitty’s look of concern, he assumed he had turned a bit green.

Moira joined them, looking sheepish. “Hello, Charles. Kitty.”

“Dear, don’t look so guilty. We’re both very happy for you. You will make some gentleman a very proper wife,” said Charles, hugging her. “I’d go so far as to say the prince will take a fancy to you.” He winked.

“Charles, don’t be ridiculous.”

Emma Frost was the odds-on favorite to become the prince’s consort. She was from an incredibly wealthy family with many connections in the capital, and she was the pinnacle of accomplishment. She could be silent and graceful or witty and charming or, as her fellow omegas knew, wicked and petty. She was undoubtedly beautiful, but her face and form possessed a perfect symmetry that Charles found unsettling, and her blue eyes were often locked in an uncanny, unblinking stare of judgment.

“He’s not being ridiculous,” Kitty chimed in. “Queen Edie, may she rest in peace, was the third place omega, and she swept King Jakob off his feet.”

Moira gave no response except a charming blush.

That evening, the eight omegas dressed in their best clothes and stood in a line before Janos. He spoke briefly to each omega as he distributed the diplomas, accepting eight perfect curtsies in return. When he stood before Charles, he said only, “You have impressed me greatly.”

He turned to speak to them all. “Ladies, and gentleman, you have survived. I understand that this has been a trying time for you all, but I am certain that each of you will look back upon this experience as incredibly valuable and transformative, and the years among your classmates will represent the best of your life.”

 _Unlikely_ , thought Charles, remembering Alex. He owed much to this school, but he had too few loved ones to forgive trespasses against them so easily.

“It is now my great honor to unveil to you the five omegas that will grace the prince with their presence in the capital. Speaking of the prince,” Janos paused, face impassive, “last week, he paid me and our humble school the uncommon distinction of writing me a letter, signed in his own hand.”

 _Dear God, a letter written in his own hand. Such a hardship. Where does the man find the time?_ Anticipating his return to the Markos, Charles was not in a particularly charitable mood.

“In this letter, he informed me in no uncertain terms that he ‘would have no fool for a consort,’ to use his own words, and he requested that I adjust the scoring system for judging omega quality.” The annoyance in Janos’s face suggested that this ‘request’ was more of an order. “As such, your academic performance is now weighted slightly higher, though beauty and deportment remain the most important facets of an accomplished omega.”

_Of course. He wants no fool, but he can’t have a troll either, now can he?_

“So, I must warn you that your standings have shifted a bit, though not dramatically. So without further ado…” At this moment, Janos walked to the board that would display their final rankings, and he uncovered it with a flourish.  
1\. Emma Frost  
2\. Jean Grey  
3\. Moira MacTaggert  
4\. Angel Salvadore  
5\. Charles Xavier  
6\. Ororo Monroe  
7\. Kitty Pryde  
8\. Anna Marie

Charles felt his heart stop, and he leaned heavily on Moira, who stood next to him, beaming.

Not everyone was so pleased. Ororo looked as if someone had punched her in the stomach, and then, ignoring her four years of training in deportment, turned on her heel and walked out. Jean, her closest friend, ran out to comfort her, and Charles kept his eyes glued to her retreating form, guilt flowing through his veins like ice.

“Charles, stop looking like a kicked puppy and be happy for yourself for once,” Moira said. “You deserve this as much as she did, probably more.”

And Charles found that he could not keep the happiness at bay. _No Cain. I won’t marry Cain Marko. Anything is better than Cain Marko_. His smile was marred by the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. Moira took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.

“Stop that! You look absurd.” But she was crying too.

Ororo and Jean did not return for the evening meal, which was the last meal that the five chosen omegas would enjoy at the school, as they were expected to leave for the capital before dawn the next day.

As they retired for bed, Charles let Moira go ahead, hoping to catch Angel and Emma and congratulate them, though they had never been his close friends. However, just as he was about to approach them, he heard something that stopped him in his tracks.

“That little cheat’s coming with us, then,” said Emma, her sweet voice doing nothing to disguise her displeasure.

“You’re sure he cheated?” replied Angel.

“How could he not? He has nothing on Ororo’s beauty. Good lord, Angel, he’s not even cute like Kitty. All he has is his brain, and suddenly that’s what the prince wants from an _omega consort_? The job of an omega consort is to host parties and have children. It’s hardly the position for a scholar. He forged that letter that Janos received; I’m almost sure of it. You’ve seen his handwriting. Perfect. And his drawing puts ours to shame. He could do it.”

“I don’t know, Emma. He seems genuinely nice to me.”

“Sugar, cheating is in his blood. Haven’t you heard about his mother?”

Here, Charles’s ears pricked in surprise. _Mother?_

“Sharon Marko was the sixth place omega twenty-two years ago, when King Jakob needed a bride. She was gorgeous and wealthy and apparently a relatively dismal student. On the night before the omegas left for the capital, she planted one of her necklaces in the trunk of the fifth place omega, planning to claim it had been stolen and get the other girl expelled. Queen Edie, rest her soul, caught her and reported her to the headmistress.”

 _This isn’t possible. How could no one have told me this before?_ Charles was beginning to tire of hearing his family history through eavesdropping.

“Her diploma was revoked, and she was disgraced. Despite her connections, not a soul in the capital would marry her after her little stunt, and the best she could do was the lowly Lord Xavier, master of about fifty acres of boring countryside.” Emma looked smug, like she had solved a great mystery.

“Are you going to turn Charles in?” Angel sounded awed, like Emma had revealed the secrets of the universe to her.

“No. I have no proof. Besides, the prince will never look twice at him anyway. He’s practically a child, and have you ever seen that disgusting scar on his leg?” They descended into giggles, and Charles, feeling in no mood to congratulate them after what he’d heard, left them to their gossip.


	6. Chapter 6

The day had finally arrived. The omegas were scheduled to arrive at the capital. They would be paraded through the city streets and, this evening, would be presented in the throne room. Prince Erik Lehnsherr could not claim to be very excited. The capital hardly had a shortage of spoiled, insipid omegas.

He had to admit that the omegas’ impending arrival had done wonders for the morale of the populace. He stood at the window of his quarters, looking out over the plaza and the palace’s approach road, where thousands of his subjects lined the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the carriages and their eagerly awaited cargo.

Erik could not begrudge the people their excitement, as the palace had not had a queen for twenty years, since his mother had died bringing him into the world. However, he could easily begrudge them the endless stream of gossip he heard about how _stunning_ and _accomplished_ the precious omegas were. For weeks, not a word was spoken to him except to congratulate him on his upcoming marriage. He could not be excited about the prospect of fixing himself permanently to the kind of giggling, mindless omegas he had been surrounded by all his life. He only hoped that his message to Headmaster Quested had been heeded, but he found it more likely that he was about to welcome a gaggle of fools to his doorstep. _Heaven help us all_.

A sudden noise from outside drew his attention once again out the window. The crowd was going mad, as they could spot the carriages cresting a hill, just a few miles from the palace. Erik turned and exited his rooms, preparing to greet the omegas with his usual brand of amiable hospitality.

Actually, no one had ever described his hospitality as anything other than cold and impersonal. But, no one ever claimed that the prince had to be sunny and accommodating.

He met his father at the end of the long staircase that opened into the grand foyer. King Jakob was only in his early forties, but he had aged rapidly in recent months and had developed a rather distressing cough. Erik had grown increasingly concerned for his health, but today was not the day to show that concern. Instead, he bowed neatly to his father and then, breaking with all tradition, embraced him.

“Excited, my boy?”

“Not in the slightest.” Erik saw no reason to stop being difficult. It was his nature.

“Of course. I would bet my kingdom that one of these young beauties will catch your eye.”

“As the kingdom is already my inheritance, I think I will refuse your bet.”

“Such impertinence! Didn’t your governess teach you respect?” Jakob smiled warmly.

“I suspect she tried.”

The two men stepped through the large palace doors, waving at their subjects and awaiting the advancing carriages. When the carriages pulled up to the front of the palace, the noise from the crowd became nearly deafening. Jakob raised his hands, and the noise quieted.

“My son, Prince Erik Lehnsherr, and I are pleased to welcome the noble and gracious omegas of the Sovereign’s Omega Finishing School and their headmaster, Janos Quested.”

Quested stepped from the first carriage, walked confidently up to the king, and bowed low. “If I may, I would like to present my lovely companions.”

The five omegas then emerged from the carriages, dressed in the traditional raiment: robes of virginal white and veils that covered all but their eyes. Erik would not see their faces until that evening, when they would be presented before the court. _Ridiculous ceremony_.

However, the ridiculous ceremony had entranced the audience, whose members screamed passionately as each omega walked before the royal family and curtsied deeply. Without further ado, Quested led them into the palace to freshen up from their travel and prepare for their presentation, which would be the most important moment of their lives.

Hours later, Erik sat on his father’s throne, looking out at a packed throne room. King Jakob had retired to his bedchambers, in good spirits, though his coughs sounded painful. Erik was joined by the four men he had selected for the honor of marrying the omegas he did not choose. To his right was Lord Sebastian Shaw, his father’s longest-serving and most trusted advisor, whose omega wife had died years before, after failing to produce an heir. Erik had never particularly liked Shaw, but the man was a close confidant of his father’s and had taken on many of the king’s responsibilities during his illness with competence and aplomb. King Jakob himself had, out of gratitude, requested that Erik choose Shaw, and Erik could refuse his father nothing. Seated next to Shaw was a young alpha who had been Erik’s childhood companion. Sean Cassidy came from a ridiculously wealthy family, and he was one of Erik’s closest friends despite his lackadaisical manner. To Erik’s left sat Logan, the beastly man who acted as head of the palace guard and had trained Erik and Sean in swordsmanship. Unsurprisingly, Erik was the much more apt pupil of the two. 

Finally, seated by Logan was Scott Summers. Summers was an odd choice for this panel, as his family was not as wealthy or well-connected as those of the other alphas. They did not even reside in the capital. Furthermore, Erik very nearly loathed him. Scott Summers was arrogant at best and obnoxious and juvenile at worst. But he was also the only man in this group to have saved Erik’s life. In a somewhat recent and highly misguided affair, Erik and several other alphas that had been visiting the capital at the time, including Summers, had gotten thoroughly drunk and taken a walk near Genosha’s scenic cliffs. One thing led to another, and Scott ended up catching Erik by the collar and halting his plummet towards death. Even more importantly, Scott had neglected to tell King Jakob about the incident, saving them all a lecture. Erik hoped that setting him up with one of the most desirable omegas in the country would make them even.

Sean rose from his seat and bent to whisper in Erik’s ear. 

“I hear that they brought a male omega this time. First time in five generations! Someone must have let slip that you have certain…preferences.” Sean winked lasciviously. If it weren’t for the large crowd assembled before the throne, Erik would have elbowed him in the ribs. Sean had been Erik’s friend through their teenage rebellion and had noticed the common denominator between Erik’s admittedly infrequent lovers. None of the omegas had been female.

“Cassidy, sit down and behave.” Sean returned to his seat, chuckling. Erik was privately quite pleased by the news and hoped Sean had not simply overheard some wild gossip.

Erik silenced the court, and the omegas were led in, still dressed in their white robes and veils. Erik tried to determine which omega might be the male, but the cloaks were too loose to reveal much about the figures underneath. So, he turned his attention instead to their eyes, the only visible parts of their bodies. Light blue, green, chocolate, hazel...and the most vibrant blue he had ever seen, shining cobalt from behind long, dark lashes. Even at a distance, they were stunning and, he dared to hope, _intelligent_. Could such bright eyes belong to a dull mind? It would hardly be fair.

Janos Quested suddenly stood before him, breaking him out of his trance. _Keep it together, Lehnsherr_.

“It is my honor to formally present…Lady Emma Frost.” He beckoned to the first omega, who walked forward and curtsied primly before Erik. Janos unveiled her to reveal a woman who looked perfectly at home in her flowing white gown. Emma smiled sweetly at Erik before returning to her position by the other omegas.

Erik was not fooled. _Emma Frost. Of course_. They had grown up together and were nearly the exact same age. They had even had the same governess and tutor. The girl was a menace, willing to smile graciously to your face as she lied through those perfect white teeth. Erik had seen her in action. Once, when they were both nine years old, the governess, a woman named Jubilee, had scolded Emma for failing to pay attention to her lessons, smacking the girl on the wrist. In retaliation, Emma had gone straight to the king and told him that the woman had beaten her severely, displaying bruises on her arms that Erik knew must have been self-inflicted. Jubilee had packed her bags and left the city that night.

Erik, lost in his memories, had failed to notice that the second omega had already approached. He berated himself again for his wandering thoughts.

“…Jean Grey,” Janos said, removing the girl’s veil. She was pretty. Pale. Red hair. Green eyes. Probably a perfect figure. She was intensely boring to Erik. Looking to his left, he saw that Scott’s jaw had fallen to the floor and Logan’s eyes were narrowed in interest. _Perfect. Let them fight over her_.

“Next I present Lady Moira MacTaggert.” Erik paid special attention to this omega. His own mother had been the third ranked omega. The oldest members of the kitchen staff still talked about how she had used her charms to win his father’s heart, and, because the man had never remarried, Erik suspected that their tales were not too outlandish. Moira looked lively, and she offered Erik a playful smile. A good sign, as he hated nervous omegas.

“…I present Lady Angel Salvadore.” Angel put on what looked to be a very practiced smile, and she batted her eyelashes. _The flouncing caricature of a noble omega_.  
Erik nodded to her, hoping that she didn’t notice it was an outright dismissal.

“Finally, I present Lord Charles Xavier.” _So there is a male omega_. Charles walked gracefully to stand before Erik, and he curtsied as properly as his female companions. _Let that be the only proper thing about him_.

Janos lifted Charles’s veil, and the man looked up into Erik’s eyes. He had pale, slightly freckled skin, ridiculously red lips, and soft brown curls. He was nothing short of beautiful. _Perfection_ , Erik thought, and he nearly blushed at the thought because Prince Erik Lehnsherr was not some simpering romantic.

Charles’s eyes widened in what looked like surprise, and his red lips quirked into a half smile. Erik watched in shock as the blue eyes glanced appreciatively over his body. _This omega is undressing me with his eyes_.

So, after Charles had returned to his position, and the omegas began to file out of the throne room, Erik did him the same courtesy, letting his eyes linger on Charles’s backside.

 _Charles Xavier, it is a pleasure to know you_.

Erik failed to notice that Sebastian Shaw, who sat silently to his right, was staring at Charles Xavier with a predatory sort of hunger written plainly on his face.


	7. Chapter 7

The day following their presentation at court, the omegas were to be subjected to an ages-old tradition called the “inspection.” Charles suspected that it would be just as uncomfortable as the name suggested. One by one according to their rank, they would be examined by a doctor, who would guarantee their health and fertility. _We are like prize hogs_. Then, the prince would look upon them and decide if their beauty was satisfactory. Charles thought of the grey-green-blue eyes of the handsome and angular prince roaming over his naked form, and he willed himself to endure the discomfort without blushing. He was not ashamed. 

Charles watched as each of his fellow omegas emerged from the examination room looking rather bewildered. Charles wondered what could possibly carve such a look of confusion onto the stony countenance of Emma Frost, but he assumed he would soon find out. He was called into the room.

Inside, there was a comfortable-looking sofa and a lanky, blue-eyed man seated beside it on a low stool. The man, who Charles assumed was the physician, gestured for Charles to sit down.

“Hello, Lord Xavier. I am Dr. Henry McCoy. Feel free to call me Hank, if you like.”

“Lovely to meet you, Hank. Let’s get this over with.” Hank looked sheepish, but nodded. The doctor listened to Charles’s heart and lungs, looked at his teeth and even into the passages of his ears. When he asked Charles to strip and lie back on the sofa, Charles knew he was about to experience an examination much like the one he received from Dr. Stryker about seven years previously. He breathed deeply. At least Hank’s fingers were not ice cold as they pressed against his abdomen and then moved between his legs.

“Could you lift a leg for me? Please tell me if anything hurts. I’ll keep this brief.”

“Go ahead, doctor.”

Hank was indeed brief, mercifully. “You’re in perfect health, Lord Xavier. In fact, I see no reason why you should not have a dozen children for the prince.”

 _Oh joy_. “Thank you, Hank.”

“You may sit up, and the prince will see you now.” Hank walked to a door that led to an adjacent room, and he opened it to admit the prince.

Prince Erik Lehnsherr strode in looking just as handsome as he had the day before. Charles had not been able to see the prince until he was standing before him in the throne room, and he had been surprised by how beautiful the man was. Cursing his nearsightedness, he hoped that his surprise had not been evident on his face. Standing before Charles at that moment, the prince also looked intensely proud. _I suspect pride is his most salient characteristic_. However, Charles noted that the man did not look at him. His eyes were trained instead on the doctor as he spoke. “Is Lord Xavier in good health?”

“He is very well, sir. You may see him now.” Hank made a gesture to Charles that implied that, though he had said “see,” he fully expected the prince to touch him. Charles very pointedly refused to shiver in nervousness.

The prince advanced on him, keeping his eyes carefully trained over Charles’s shoulder until he stood directly in front of him. Then, he glanced down to meet Charles’s gaze. The prince lifted a hand, and Charles stilled completely, daring himself to keep eye contact with the prince. He remembered the voice of one of his teachers back at the finishing school. _A demure omega will avert his or her gaze, blinking charmingly_. Well, this was no time to be demure. 

However, his nerves were unfounded. The prince merely laid the back of his hand against Charles’s forehead, like a mother might do for her feverish child. “Dr. McCoy is quite right, Lord Xavier. Your temperature feels normal. I suspect you’re health is exceptional.” The prince’s face was impassive, but his eyes were merry. He dropped his hand and stepped away from Charles, returning his gaze to the wall behind Charles’s head.

“Please, call me Charles. I see now why my fellow omegas looked so distraught. You will not look upon us?” _Charles, you idiot, why are you talking?_ “You know, we have cultivated our beauty for four years for this very moment. You have offended them.”

The prince looked amused, like he too was surprised Charles was speaking. “I meant no offense. In fact, I hoped to set you all at ease. Besides, I hardly need to pass judgment on your looks. You would not be here if you were not the pinnacle of beauty.” The prince smiled.

Charles snorted. _Did you just snort at the prince? What is wrong with you?_

“Then why not dispense with the entire proceeding, if you are so high-minded about preserving our modesty?” Hank was twitching nervously as he watched the two of them, and Charles remembered he was supposed to be displaying his good breeding, not insulting royalty. _Oops._

But, the prince looked none the worse for wear in the face of Charles’s insolence. He looked just as proud as ever and his smile indicated he was mildly entertained.

“I am Prince Erik, not King Erik, and even a prince is slave to tradition, Charles.”

“You are quite right, of course, sir. I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize, as I can see you are not sorry.” 

Charles blushed, and the prince must have noticed because he chuckled in response. Then, his face became more animated, like he had a brilliant idea.

“Dr. McCoy, you’re dismissed,” the prince said suddenly, “Thank you for tending to Lord Xavier.”

The doctor looked conflicted and then seemed to decide that he had no desire to argue with the prince and stepped quickly from the room.

The prince, his eyes still turned carefully away from Charles, said, “Get dressed, Charles. I would be honored if you would accompany me on a short walk through the garden.”

 _Oh. That is…most irregular_.

Charles reached for his tunic, slipping it quickly over his head. “Without a chaperone, sir?” Since his arrival at the capital, Charles had been assigned a bodyguard named Azazel who had barely left Charles alone for a second.

“Please, call me Erik.” Then, with mischief written plainly on his face, he said, “What is it, Charles? Are you afraid I’ll drag you behind the hedges and take advantage of you?”

Years of lessons in deportment told Charles exactly what a demure omega would say. _I thought nothing of the kind, sir. I would simply feel more comfortable with a chaperone_. Or, _You scandalize me, sir! I merely do not want to feed the gossip of the court_.

A good, accomplished omega would never walk alone through the garden with an unmarried alpha. And he or she would never, ever say what Charles said next. However, the smirk on the prince’s face and the twinkle in his eye were a challenge to Charles. And Charles was never particularly good at being demure.

“No, sir. I was rather afraid that you would not even lay a hand on me, and thereby deprive me of my chance to write of my experience for the enjoyment of every silly omega in the country. I’m already thinking of titles. _Deflowered Among the Flowers_ has quite a ring to it. I shall make a small fortune in royalties.”

Before Charles could feel too much remorse for his glib remark, the prince began to shake with silent laughter. Erik wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and then took Charles’s arm. “Then, let us stroll, Charles.”

The garden was more beautiful than any Charles had encountered in the countryside. The Marko manor boasted only a small rose garden and acres of untamed land. The palace garden was clearly a work of intense planning, manicured and sculpted to perfection. Gazebos and benches were hidden in secluded nooks, perfect gathering-places for friends…or lovers. Under one pavilion, Charles saw a chess set and wondered if the prince could play. Before he could ask, Erik spoke.

“I must tell you, Charles, that you have the loveliest eyes I have ever encountered. When you were presented at court yesterday, I could see their blue from twenty paces.”

“I thank you. I am glad to hear that someone gets enjoyment from them. They are a sad case of form over function, I think. For example, I cannot see anything at twenty paces.”

Erik laughed. “You have an interesting strategy for winning my heart, Charles. Did they teach you at school to reject compliments and instead reveal your physical infirmities to your suitors?”

“I simply do not want you to be surprised if your little heirs have stunning blue eyes yet are so nearsighted they bump into doorways.”

“Your honesty is refreshing, Charles.”

“Well, honesty is the best policy. I would hardly sell you a lame mare and call her prime breeding stock.”

At this, Erik’s face fell slightly, and Charles wondered what he had said that could upset him.

“I do not judge your worth like I would judge livestock, Charles.”

“Of course not, sir. And I’m sorry to have said it.”

Erik brightened again. “Are you ever going to call me Erik? Oh well, I suppose we’ve just met. Come, I’d like to show you the rock garden. It was my favorite place as a child.”  
To reach the rock garden, they had to step over a little babbling stream. When Charles lifted the hem of his tunic clear of the water, he heard a sharp intake of breath from the prince.

“Good lord, Charles. What did you do to that leg?”

 _Damn. Of course you noticed_. Charles decided to distract him by changing the subject.

“You really weren’t looking during the inspection, were you?” He asked, winking.

“I already told you that I won’t judge you like livestock. The inspection is beyond antiquated; it’s insulting.”

“But now that my leg is the only exposed skin, you can’t take your eyes off of it?” Charles cursed himself inwardly for his inability to keep his mouth shut, but Erik chuckled.

“You see right through me, Charles.” In fact, once Charles had been clothed, Erik had given him no shortage of appreciative glances, and he bestowed one now, his eyes traveling over Charles from head to toe.

Erik continued. “But, if you think you’ve successfully drawn me away from my line of questioning, you are sorely mistaken. I ask again, what did you do to that leg?” Erik’s face was all concern.

“Don’t look so troubled; the accident was not recent. I was twelve, and I fell down the stairs.” Charles hoped the lie could not be read on his face, but he knew as well as anyone that he was a terrible liar. “It was a compound fracture that required surgery.”

Erik’s eyes flashed, almost imperceptibly. But Charles thought he detected…anger? 

“Fell down the stairs? That seems a common enough ailment among omegas. Clumsiness and the ability to bear children must be inextricably linked.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I am telling you the truth.” Charles had no interest in his pity. He was not a poor, defenseless, _abused_ omega.

“But perhaps not the whole truth. Maybe one day you will trust me with the full story.”

Charles found that he missed the ease of their earlier conversation, so he changed his tone. “Perhaps I will. In the meantime, I’m glad you’ve seen the scar. Now I can have some shorter tunics made for this oppressive summer weather.”

“Don’t tell me you were covering that scar out of shame.”

“Oh, please,” Charles scoffed. “I would bathe naked in the palace fountains if I did not think I would be arrested for indecency.” Erik looked startled, and then laughed loudly. “No, the school required me to cover my leg so as not to offend the sensibilities of my future suitors.”

“Do not take this the wrong way, Charles, but it seems to me that very few of the school’s lessons on proper behavior have made any impact on you at all.”

“I will admit that I was much more focused on my studies than the intricacies of polite conversation. I have mastered curtsies and embroidery and piano, and I can even stumble my way through a few fashionable dances, but I am much more interested in science. Mathematics. Politics. Anything that requires actual thought.”

“Oh, so you can dazzle me with your wit?” The smirk was back on Erik’s face.

“Have I not been doing that all along? Pity. No, I think I’m much more qualified to lecture you. What would you like to hear? Genoshan history?” Erik made a face of disgust. “No, then. Politics, biology? I can recite some poetry, though not very well.” They finally approached the rock garden. “Oh! Geology, of course. Such a crowd pleaser.”

Charles took a seat on a nearby boulder. “The rock that currently has the pleasure of supporting my weight is granite. That one over there,” he said, pointing, “is gneiss. See the bands of minerals? Now, hold onto your hat, my dear prince.” His voice was dripping sarcasm now. “Would you believe me if I told you that they have exactly the same composition? The gneiss is just granite that has been metamorphosed by heat and pressure over a long period of time.”

Erik gave a gasp of mock surprise. “You’re joking, Charles! The exact same composition!” Erik sat next to him, their thighs touching. Charles was surprised at how distracting he found it.

“Don’t worry, sir. I have plenty more lectures like that to keep you interested. I daresay I could bore you with insignificant geology facts for the rest of our natural lives.”

Erik feigned a yawn and fluttered his eyes, like Charles had nearly put him to sleep. However, he otherwise looked like he was about to devour Charles whole, so Charles was not fooled by the display.

“Well, Charles, I am loath to leave your company, but we should probably return to the palace or there will be no end of talk about the impropriety of the prince and his sultry country omega.”

Charles stood and offered the prince his arm. “Lead on, then, Erik.”

Erik beamed, showing far too many teeth, but somehow looking more handsome than ever.

Charles did not understand what he had done to elicit such a smile until he closed his eyes that evening, drifting off to sleep. Then, a realization hit him. _Lead on, then, Erik_. Not sir. Not prince. _Erik_.


	8. Chapter 8

As Charles had anticipated, his unchaperoned stroll through the garden with the prince had not gone unnoticed. In fact, it was the talk of the capital, at least until their next unchaperoned stroll just three days later. Two weeks after the arrival of the omegas, every decent gossip for miles around spoke endlessly of how the restrained prince was suddenly smitten. Tales of the prince’s prized blue-eyed omega spread like wildfire. Charles was secretly pleased by them, as his own beauty was heavily exaggerated. Sadly, the stories were also an endless source of amusement for Moira and Jean, with whom he currently breakfasted.

“So, Charles,” Moira said, her eyebrows raising mischievously, “Yesterday, I overheard a couple of maids talking about a radiant omega whose blue eyes put God’s own sky to shame and whose skin was so pristine and pale he could be lost in the snow if not for his apple-red lips. Any idea who they might have been talking about?”

“None whatsoever, but I ardently desire to meet such a beauty.”

Jean spoke next. “It would be a great honor, to be sure. Speaking of great honors, don’t you have a date today with Lord Sebastian Shaw?” Charles groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Jean and Moira laughed at his misfortune. _Traitors_. Charles was secretly glad of Jean’s teasing. It was a vast improvement over the silence she had greeted him with in the weeks following Ororo’s last-minute exclusion from the journey to the capital. _Perhaps she has at last forgiven me_. Angel and Emma had failed to warm up to him, and his interactions with the both of them consisted mainly of glaring.

All of the omegas, in addition to their main goal of charming the stoic prince, were obligated to meet with the other eligible suitors at least once. Charles had been called on by all but Lord Shaw, who he would see that afternoon. Charles would much rather avoid meeting him entirely, as he did not much care for his looks and found his smile off-putting. He expressed this objection to his companions.

Moira raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, Charles. Very off-putting. His Royal Highness’s smile, in contrast, is not at all unnerving.”

“Sarcasm is very unbecoming on you, Moira.” He paused. “I suppose his smile is an acquired taste. I find it quite pleasant.”

“I have not yet acquired it, then. I think he has more than the usual number of teeth.” Charles threw a grape at her, but she dodged it with admirable agility.

Jean added, “Charles, you should be thankful you even know what his smile looks like. He is like a living statue in my presence. I could not elicit a smile from him if I had ten lifetimes in which to do it.”

“I suspect that ten lifetimes is about how long my date with Lord Shaw will feel, judging by the other gentlemen,” replied Charles.

Charles’s meetings with the other noblemen had been relatively bland affairs compared to his frequent conversations with the prince. Lord Cassidy had been politely disinterested, though Moira assured him that he had simply caught Sean on an off night and that he was “positively the most charming man I have ever met.”

Sure.

Logan, on the other hand, had been _impolitely_ disinterested, speaking perhaps five words to Charles, three of which were “Is Jean well?” Chares had spent the rest of the evening hoping that he had not misread the prince’s affections and that he would not end up with this beastly man as a lifelong companion. _Ours would be a rather taciturn marriage, I fear._

Scott Summers was equally insufferable, but for the opposite reason. The man spoke too much and about nothing important. He seemed unendingly proud of his prowess in sailing, horseback riding, and archery, and he clearly thought himself overwhelming handsome. Like Logan, he also seemed to prefer Jean. _Bless her soul_.

Charles was finally able to stem the flow of Scott’s interminable self-congratulation by inquiring after Alex.

“Alex? I’d forgotten the two of you were friends. He’s quite well. Truth be told, he’s actually violently ill. He’s with child, and about four months along, and he writes that he still vomits every morning, poor man.”

Charles hoped his shock was not too evident. “Alex?! With child? He is married, then?”

“I see you’re quite behind the times. He has been Alexander Muñoz for nearly a year now. I believe you met Armando briefly.”

“Darwin?” Scott nodded. “Yes, I met him very briefly and under not altogether happy circumstances.”

Scott grimaced. “My father was very displeased with me for that bit of drama. As I’m sure you recall, I failed quite miserably in my duties as chaperone. Alex, of course, wanted to marry as soon as he returned to our family’s residence at Summerfield, but Father insisted that Darwin finish out his military service before the wedding. After all, we couldn’t have it look like Alex had been sent to school and eloped with an officer on a whim. Luckily, the school was willing to cover up the circumstances of Alex’s expulsion. I think it was quite the embarrassment for Headmaster Quested. Now Alex is living a quiet life, dignity relatively intact despite his indiscretions.”

“Thank the Lord for small miracles.” Charles felt a bit daring, so he asked, “If you don’t mind the question, how did you manage to fail so spectacularly as chaperone?”

Scott looked a bit sheepish, which seemed out of place on his usually-arrogant face. “You must believe me when I say the whole thing took me by surprise. Darwin was our ward at Summerfield for years. We grew up together. I thought of him as a brother. Not, I assure you, as a brother-in-law.”

“You didn’t know about the two of them? The first day I met Alex, he informed me that he was nearly engaged to some dashing alpha.”

“Engaged? Our father would hardly have consented to the match before…well, the incidents at the school. Darwin is a good man, but Alex has married a bit below his station, if I am to be honest. Alex was exaggerating if he claimed to be engaged. He has always had a penchant for the dramatic.”

“Really? I’d never noticed,” Charles joked.

After his meetings with the other suitors, Charles was under no illusions that Lord Shaw would be even half as interesting as Erik. He would be boring at best and intolerable at worst. He found he could barely find the enthusiasm to put together a presentable outfit for the date, and he selected his most comfortable tunic.

If Shaw’s appreciative glance down his entire body was anything to go on, though, the man was still quite enticed by his appearance. He looked every bit the lecherous old man. _Why couldn’t you be politely disinterested like your counterparts?_

Shaw took his hand and kissed it. _Sickening. Just sickening_. “Shall we walk, Lord Xavier?”

“I would be delighted.” 

Charles’s bodyguard Azazel accompanied them on their walk through the gardens. Charles did not allow himself to be unchaperoned unless it was with Erik. He was especially glad for Azazel’s presence now, as Shaw was not shy in letting his eyes roam over Charles’s body. Charles tried not to let his discomfort show.

“So, Lord Xavier, I have heard that the prince has taken quite a fancy to you.”

“I flatter myself to think that you have heard the truth.”

“I must admit that I have never seen His Royal Highness so animated in his life. You have changed him.” Shaw’s eyes narrowed, but his face was otherwise impassive.

“I hope we can both make each other better men.” _That’s it Charles. Spew banalities for the next hour, and this misguided encounter will be over_.

“I must also admit,” Shaw continued as if Charles had never spoken, “that I find Prince Erik has very good taste in his…romantic pursuits.” Shaw looked down at Charles, hunger in his eyes, and he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Charles realized belatedly that they had walked a bit too far ahead of Azazel, who was now nearly thirty paces behind them. Charles’s breath quickened.

“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment, sir?” Charles fought to maintain his composure, willing Azazel to hasten and catch them.

“You are supposed to take that as an invitation.” Shaw stepped even closer to Charles, until they were nearly chest-to-chest. “I’m asking you, Charles, to tell the prince that you much prefer my company. He’ll be heartbroken, but I’m quite certain he’ll let you go. For your own happiness.”

“Why, pray tell, would I do that?”

“I am sure I could make you very happy, Charles. And you would make me the happiest man alive.” Shaw slipped a hand behind Charles, resting it on his lower back.

“I will not toy with your heart, sir. If the prince honors me with a proposal, I will enthusiastically accept. I have no feelings for you and do not plan to cultivate any.” Charles took a step back, brushing off the wandering hand.

Anger flashed across Shaw’s face. “Keep in mind, Charles, that I am a more powerful man than your prince. The king is ill and has been for some time. In his absence, I practically rule this country. Every man, woman, and child in it answer to me.”

Charles’s anger rivaled Shaw’s. “You cannot tempt me with delusions of grandeur. I would marry Erik even if he were the stable boy. Your power is no enticement. And, please, in future, call me Lord Xavier.” He performed a deep, mocking curtsy that conveyed none of the respect usually associated with the gesture. “Good evening.” He left Shaw alone in the garden, waving to Azazel to accompany him back to his quarters.

Only after he arrived at his bedchamber did Charles think that he might have missed something in the tone of Shaw’s final words to him. Shaw had not been bragging about his power in order to tempt Charles into marrying him. He had wanted Charles to fear the consequences if he chose to reject the advances of such a well-connected man. His final words were a threat.

Charles tried not to think about the severity of his situation or about the dangerous enemy he had just made as he forced himself to sleep that night. _Just tell Erik. Erik will handle it._


	9. Chapter 9

Sebastian Shaw arrived outside of Prince Erik Lehnsherr’s quarters and spoke to one of the guards on duty. 

“I seek an audience with the prince.”

“Just a moment.”

Shaw waited impatiently to be granted entrance. He had important business.

_That omega bitch may have the nerve to refuse me, but the prince will hand him over willingly._

“Lord Shaw. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Prince Erik, thank you so much for seeing me.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I hear that you took a turn through the garden with Lord Xavier last night. What did you think of him?”

“He was a most enchanting gentleman, but…may I offer my advice, Your Highness?”

“My father always valued it.” Despite his response, Erik looked skeptical.

“I do not mean to insult the man, but he is perhaps the least logical choice for your consort. I hardly need to point out that he was the fifth ranked out of five accomplished young omegas. Furthermore, he comes from nothing. You understand that he is from a dying house? The Xaviers are no more, and he is the last to bear that name.”

“That should hardly matter. I have enough connections for the both of us, I think. His family name matters little, especially considering that it will soon be Lehnsherr.”

 _Stubborn boy_.

“Then consider instead, Your Highness, that he is a male omega. His female companions are likely more fertile. You owe this country an heir.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed, a spark of annoyance apparent in them. “I do not care if he produces two or twenty children. He is not a brood mare. Besides, a female omega hardly guarantees a healthy crop of offspring, as my own dear departed mother has shown. Do you intend to dissuade me from marrying Charles?”

_I see there is no reasoning with you. Your arrogance will be your downfall._

Defeated, Shaw turned to charm. “You misunderstand, Your Highness. I am merely playing Devil’s advocate. I would be a worthless advisor if I did not make you examine every angle of this union. I give you my blessing to marry Charles, unreservedly. He is truly an impressive man and will make an excellent consort.”

Erik softened. “I’m glad we see eye to eye, then.”

“Of course. Good day, Your Highness.” 

As Shaw backed through the door, he gave the prince a smile he hoped came across as supportive rather than patronizing.

_Charles will belong to no man but me. You have doomed him with your affections, you miserable fool._

 

Charles met Erik in the garden the afternoon following his disastrous meeting with Shaw. Before he lost his nerve, he immediately broached the subject that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“Erik, I met with Lord Shaw yesterday–”

“Yes, I heard. He met with me this morning and gave me his blessing on our union. Not that I needed it.”

“His blessing?” Charles was stunned.

“Yes. I think you must have made quite the impression on him. Though, he did feel the need to lecture me on your shortcomings when it comes to wealth and connections.” Erik smirked.

_What game is Shaw playing?_

“You seem distracted, Charles. What is on your mind?”

“It’s nothing to concern you with. I simply found Lord Shaw…a bit disagreeable.”

Erick barked a laugh. “Disagreeable is a kind term for it. He has always been a bitter pill to swallow, but my father trusts him implicitly. And I trust my father.”

_I can hardly malign Shaw now with so little evidence against him and so many people vouching for his character. His words yesterday must have been fueled by bitterness and embarrassment. After all, I had just spurned him. A man whose pride has been wounded cannot be held accountable for the words he says in his shame._

“Then I say let us speak no more of Lord Shaw and instead enjoy each other’s company,” said Charles.

“I have already forgotten Lord Shaw entirely.”

As it happened, the prince could play chess, and the two of them frequently played in the shade of the pavilion Charles had seen on their first walk together, basking in the fresh air of the garden. Erik lost more than he won, but he seemed to enjoy Charles’s victories as much as his own. Charles was not quite as gracious, and he frowned that afternoon as he was forced to admit defeat.

“Now, now, Charles. Such the sore loser.”

“I am simply unaccustomed to the sting of failure. You, being so familiar with it, must understand the pain.”

“I assure you, you will recover shortly,” Erik replied, smirking and resetting the board. As he lined up the pieces, he changed the topic of conversation.

“Can you believe it, Charles? My birthday is now a little under two weeks away, and then it will be time to announce my engagement.”

“I find your birthday very easy to remember, in part because my entire life revolves around it, and in part because mine is just three days before it.”

“Really? Well, happy birthday, then Charles. Eighteen is a great year. You’ll enjoy it.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I will, but I would rather live through seventeen first, if you don’t mind.”

Erik dropped a pawn and went scrabbling beneath the table to retrieve it. When he stood, pawn in hand, the look of surprise on his face made Charles snicker in amusement.

“You’re sixteen?”

“Very nearly seventeen.”

“My God, you’re a child. I have been courting a child.”

“Courting? Is that what you call this combination of bickering and fertility inspections?”

Erik continued, apparently in some sort of ethical turmoil. “I knew you looked young, but this is ridiculous.”

“Yes, you’re a pedophile. Disgusting. If you are truly afraid for your moral soul, you can hand me over to one of the other men lined up the marry me.”  
Erik glared.

“That’s what I thought. Well, Your Highness, if you won’t give me up, then you might as well have me, don’t you think?”

Erik seemed to agree.

They began a new game, and this time, Charles won.


	10. Chapter 10

Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier spent his birthday in the company of the prince, surprising no one. They passed the day by walking through the palace’s gallery of ridiculously showy marble statuary. They chose the location not for their great enthusiasm for the craftsmanship but rather for the solitude the gallery offered them.

“I would have bought you a gift, Charles, but my father forbade it. He said it would be ‘quite unbecoming’ of me to lavish you with presents when I have barely spoken ten words to the other omegas.”

Charles frowned, feigning dismay. “You disappoint me, Erik. You are a grown man; could you not have disobeyed your father for my sake?”

“My father is the king. As a rule, I do not disobey my sovereign. I did not want to put him in the position of being forced to have me executed,” Erik replied with a wry smirk.

“Yes, that would be quite messy.”

“Undeniably an embarrassment for the Crown.” Erik paused. “If you must know, I wanted to follow his wishes before he got himself worked up for a lecture on favoritism.”

“Your father sounds like a good king. Very fair-minded. I have to respect that, even if it means that I must celebrate my birthday empty-handed as a result. I can’t wait to meet him.” Erik frowned, deep in thought, and did not respond.

“I’m sorry, Erik, did I say something wrong?” Worry crept into Charles’s voice.

Erik shook himself out of his thoughts and noticed the agitation on Charles’s face. “No, Charles. You can’t possibly believe that I wouldn’t want you to meet him, can you?”

“Well, I thought that there had to be some good reason why I haven’t seen him since the day I arrived.”

“There is. He’s…quite unwell.”

“I remember Lord Shaw saying something about an illness.” 

“We had hoped he just had pneumonia and would recover, but Dr. McCoy is convinced that it is cancer now.”

“Oh, Erik, I’m so sorry.” Charles placed an arm around Erik’s waist in consolation. “I don’t know what to say. I lost my father when I was five, you know. Why am I telling you this? This is hardly the way to brighten your mood.”

“No, go on. If I had known that playing the wretched orphan would make you open up about your childhood, I would have done it a lot sooner.” Erik gave him a sad smile.

“You have a dark sense of humor, my friend. Anyway, he died very suddenly. The doctor said it was probably a stroke. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever lived through. He was everything I wanted to be. He liked to be independent and kept very few servants, to my mother’s dismay. I think he was fair with the farmers who worked our land. At least, they were quite complimentary when he died, though whether that was out of respect or because they refused to speak ill of the dead, I’ll never know.” To Charles’s surprise, his eyes had begun to fill with tears. He hadn’t thought about his father in a long time. “I desperately wanted to be an alpha so that I could take over his property.” His voice cracked. “He deserved a real son.” Charles shocked himself again by admitting this insecurity that he had harbored for so long.

At this, Erik pulled him into a hug. “Don’t say that, Charles. I’m sure he would have loved you either way.”

“God, I should be consoling you, and here I am spilling my guts and crying on your shoulder. I’m so sorry; I thought I’d gotten over all of this years ago.” Charles laughed weakly. 

“I’m glad you told me all of this. I can’t imagine what you went through. I feel almost guilty saying it, but I never knew my mother, so I feel like I’ve never lost a parent before.”

Charles finally disentangled himself from their hug, and they began to walk again. “I’m sure your mother was a lovely woman.”

“My father certainly seems to think so.” Erik smiled. _Success. I have cheered you up_. “What is your mother like?”

 _Way to ruin the good mood, Lehnsherr_. “I won’t lie to you, Erik. She is…not the most maternal woman in the kingdom. Are you sure you haven’t heard enough of my childhood sob story?”

“I want all the gory details.”

“I think she must have loved my father some small amount because she began drinking and taking opiates after his death and never stopped. I have only seen her sober for a few months since I was five years old because I made her stop drinking when she was pregnant with my half-sister.”

“You never said you had a sister, Charles.” Erik looked interested.

“Oh, yes, I am up to my eyeballs in siblings, actually.”

“I always wanted a brother or sister as a kid.”

“I will admit that Raven is one of the best things to ever happen in my life, though I haven’t seen her in years now. I often wonder what she looks like. I suppose she would be about five. But, you wouldn’t want my stepbrother Cain.”

“Why not?”

Charles took a deep breath, and Erik seemed to realize he had found a sore spot in Charles’s history.

“You don’t have to tell me, Charles.”

“No, I want to. I’ve just never told anyone before.” Steadying himself, he continued. “You remember how you asked about my leg? Well, Cain did that. He pushed me down the stairs when I was twelve and he was sixteen. I’m sure the scar would be prettier if the surgery had been done in a hospital, but my stepfather Kurt insisted it be done in the house to keep the accident quiet.”

“It was hardly an accident, Charles.” The prince looked pained.

“You’re right, of course. I have just been telling that lie for so long that I almost believe it. Cain and I were engaged then and had been since I was ten.” Charles noticed Erik’s face and nearly snorted. “Don’t be jealous, you silly man. Anyway, he was quite…possessive of me. He wanted me to know he was the dominant alpha, as if I could forget. He usually just beat me, but that day he went…below the belt, so to speak.” Charles found it difficult to speak plainly of something that brought him so much shame. “I was desperately afraid he’d rape me, so I fought him off, and my leg was the big loser in that fight.” Erik hissed at the word rape, like he had been burned.

“Charles, I’m so sorry. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

“I’m beginning to think I’d trust you with anything.” Erik smiled broadly and they walked from the gallery.


	11. Chapter 11

Charles Xavier sat in his underclothes, staring at a selection of his best tunics.

“Charles, the ball is in four hours, and, although I’m sure the prince would be happy to see you just as you are, the rest of us would appreciate it if you would put some clothes on,” said Moira. She was already wearing a dress of shimmering purple silk. Charles gave her a withering look, but she seemed unfazed. 

Charles finally reached for a long blue tunic, only to have Jean grab his wrist.

“No, Charles. Don’t you own anything that isn’t blue?”

“Blue is my color.”

“It’s not your only color. That settles it; you are borrowing something of mine.”

“I don’t wear dresses.” Most male omegas did, from time to time, but Charles preferred pants or loose-fitting tunics. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that his preferences stemmed from his deep-seated insecurities about being an omega.

“You will tonight,” Jean replied. So, despite his objections, Moira and Jean soon wrestled him into a red wrap dress. It was cut simply, like a robe, so it required no alteration. It tied with a sash around his natural waist. Charles tried and failed to bat Moira’s hands away as she slipped a pair of her own sapphire earrings into his ear lobes. He had been required to get the piercings while at school, but he rarely wore jewelry.

“I think Jean was right, Charles. Red is definitely your color.”

“I’m going to kill you both.”

The ball was being held, according to tradition, on the eve of the prince’s twentieth birthday. The following day, Erik would formally propose to the omega of his choice in front of the court. Everyone knew that omega would be Charles.

To make that point abundantly clear, Erik danced the first dance with Charles. 

Erik whispered into his ear. “You look unbelievable, Charles. I don’t think I can let anyone else dance with you tonight. You’re too tempting.” Erik’s pupils were wide with desire, so Charles knew he was not exaggerating his attraction.

“You can thank Jean for the dress. She loaned it to me.”

“I think you mean she sold it to you. We’re keeping it, and I will be sure to reimburse her every penny for it.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Well, I do owe you a birthday present.”

Throughout the night, Erik danced with all of the omegas, and Charles had to suffer through dances with Logan, Scott, Sean, and even Lord Shaw, who was a surprisingly lithe dancer. 

“You look ravishing tonight, Lord Xavier.” _Pervert_.

“Thank you, Lord Shaw,” he replied curtly.

“I hope that you do not harbor any ill will towards me. I work very closely with your future husband, and I do not want tension to exist between us. I would much prefer that your children with Prince Erik and mine with Lady Frost be raised like loving cousins.” 

_Lady Frost? Ha! A match made in Hell. They will terrorize us all, but hopefully they will terrorize each other even more_. However, Shaw looked altogether amiable, so Charles switched to a charm offensive.

“I had no idea you had designs on Lady Frost. I offer my congratulations. She is a most accomplished young woman.” He neglected to mention her frigid personality.

“Oh, I’m sure we will be quite happy.” The dance ended suddenly, and they bowed to each other before parting ways.

Erik scandalized the court by refusing to dance with anyone other than Charles for the next three dances. The drinks were flowing, and Erik was losing his inhibitions, but Charles managed to stop the prince’s wandering hands before their dancing became too indecent.

“Erik, I’m quite sure you are not too drunk to recognize where my lower back is located? Just as a hint, it’s a bit higher than where your hand is currently situated.” Erik laughed but followed Charles’s direction.

Charles forced Erik to dance with other partners, and he decided to withdraw from the dance floor for a bit. He was joined by Emma Frost. _Speak of the devil._

“I understand that congratulations are in order for you and Lord Shaw,” said Charles.

Emma favored him with one of her perfect, strangely vacant smiles. “Oh, sugar, you are too sweet. Thank you. I actually came over here to congratulate _you_ on your excellent match. Prince Lehnsherr is clearly smitten.”

“Thank you.” Charles was surprised that Emma was willing to offer such congratulations after all the glaring she had done in recent weeks. Emma must have seen the puzzlement in his expression and guessed at its cause.

“I know I have treated you abysmally, and I am ashamed to admit that it was out of jealousy. But, I was hoping that we might end tonight as friends.” Charles noticed she had two drinks in her hands, and she passed one to him. “A toast to new friendship.”

“To new friendship and happy couples,” Charles replied, clinking his glass against hers and downing its contents in one gulp. The drink burned and had a strange aftertaste, but he was glad to drink it to put the awkwardness between them in the past. Emma smiled again, and this time it seemed more genuine.

Charles joined Erik for the final dance, a lively one with an inordinate number of steps. He could barely breathe enough to speak after it.

“My head is swimming! That dance has completely sapped my energy.”

“I think it’s time to call it a night, don’t you?”

“Definitely.” Charles swayed a bit on his feet. “To tell you the truth, I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

Erik laughed. “A tipsy Charles Xavier? I never thought I’d see it. I hope you’ll be recovered by tomorrow. It’s the most important day of your young life, you know.”

“I’m well aware.”

The mood suddenly changed, with Erik looking deeply troubled.

“I only hope my father will be able to attend the ceremony. He seems to have taken a turn for the worse. I’m about to pay him a visit in his rooms with Lord Shaw and Dr. McCoy.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is.” Erik grimaced. “We all knew this was coming, but I had hoped his health would hold up until after the wedding. I suppose death does not consider matters of timeliness and convenience.”

“Perhaps your father will make a recovery,” Charles said, though he knew it was naïve.

“I hope so. Charles, I bid you good night. Azazel.” The man appeared at once. “See that Lord Xavier makes it back to his rooms safely. He looks a bit unsteady on his feet. Such a lightweight.” Erik winked playfully at Charles. 

Azazel smiled. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Azazel led Charles by the elbow from the fast-emptying ballroom. Charles’s vision blurred a bit, and he stumbled. Only when he saw that he had been led away from his own room to an unused wing of the palace did he begin to sense the danger he was in.

“Azazel?” His speech slurred. “Why are we here?”

The bodyguard answered by opening the door to an extravagantly furnished bedroom and pushing Charles inside. The room spun, and Charles remembered the foul drink Emma had given him. _Charles, you imbecile, she drugged you…so much for new friendship._


	12. Chapter 12

Erik entered his father’s quarters, where Dr. McCoy and Lord Shaw, who had ducked out of the ball earlier in the evening, sat on either side of his father’s bed. The frail king managed to give him a small smile before erupting into a fit of rattling coughs. Once they subsided, he spoke in a whisper so quiet that Erik was forced to bend to hear him.

“Erik, my boy, Lord Shaw informs me that you intend to propose to Lord Xavier tomorrow in front of the court.”

“I hope you approve.” Erik fought for composure, nearly breaking down at the sight of his once-vibrant father brought so low by illness.

“You have my blessing. Not that you need it. You have never needed my permission for even the slightest thing before.” King Jakob smiled wryly.

“I am still glad to have it.”

“Your mother would be so proud of you. I wish you had known her.” He coughed violently again. Erik’s birthday had always been a bittersweet time for Jakob, and in Erik’s childhood he had tried to avoid the topic of Erik’s mother in order to spare his young son from unnecessary grief on his special day. However, the deathbed is hardly a place to mince words, and Erik did not mind him mentioning the woman he loved now.

“I wish the very same thing every day,” Erik replied. Erik did wish it, though more for his father’s sake than his own. He had never known Edie Lehnsherr, but Jakob had spent every day for twenty years missing her.

“I want you to propose with the ring I gave your mother. She wore it for far too short a time. It has a lot of use left in it, I believe. Sebastian, do you have it?” 

Shaw spoke for the first time. “It is in Queen Edie’s old quarters.” Erik knew that his mother’s rooms had sat untouched except to be cleaned for the past twenty years. The wing of the palace was basically unused. “Prince Erik, you can retrieve the ring in the morning. You should probably stay with your father now.” The _while there is still time_ was implied.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” said Jakob. “You have always been a loyal friend. You may leave us.” Shaw bowed out of the room.

Jakob suddenly winced in pain and then renewed his coughing with vigor. He looked dazed, lying back against a mound of pillows.

“He will likely sleep soon,” said Hank. “I think it goes without saying that he will miss the ceremony tomorrow. He has days to live, if that. I am very sorry I cannot do more.”

“I understand,” said Erik. As his father winced again, he added, “Can you at least give him something for the pain? Or to help him sleep?”

Hank looked extremely contrite when he replied. “I wish I could sir, but my entire stock of sedatives has gone missing. I can only assume that they were stolen by addicts, though the sedatives I use have few of the…recreational benefits of opiates. They were mainly muscle relaxers and sleeping pills.”

Erik’s stomach turned as he was hit with a sudden sickening suspicion.

Charles had nearly lost his balance during their last dance. _To tell you the truth, I think I may have had too much to drink_ , he had said. _But, what could he have had? Three drinks at most?_

Erik stood from his seat at his father’s bed side so quickly that he startled Hank. 

“Hank, stay with Father. Guards! Find Sebastian Shaw and send him to me. I will be…”

Erik thought for a moment, and his intuition told him where to go.

“…in my mother’s old chambers. Send more guards to check Lord Xavier’s bedchamber. Make haste.”

Hoping that he was wildly overreacting and that Charles had indeed been tipsy after a few stiff drinks, Erik sprinted as fast as he could towards Edie Lehnsherr’s unused rooms.


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as Azazel slammed the door, Charles’s knees began to buckle under him, unable to support his weight. Azazel dragged him, painfully wrenching his shoulder, and threw him down onto the large bed, looking down with eyes shining with lust. His smile was sinister, and he chuckled as Charles’s movements of resistance became weaker and more erratic before stilling completely.

“Look at you. To think that the prince almost had you all to himself.” He leaned over Charles, breath ghosting over his face. His fingers moved to open the sash at the front of Charles’s dress, and Charles’s heartbeat quickened. _No_.

“What a waste that would have been. A mouth like that is meant to be shared. It belongs to a whore.” At that, Azazel leaned down to kiss that mouth, hard, and Charles tried to twist away in disgust or bite down on the invading tongue. None of his muscles would respond. Tears brimmed in his eyes.

Azazel pulled back and untangled Charles’s limp arms from the sleeves of his dress, tossing the piece of clothing across the room. Then, he tore Charles’s underclothes quickly down his thighs, throwing them to join the dress and leaving Charles completely exposed on the bed. “I think we’ll leave the jewelry on. It suits you, don’t you think?” Azazel’s hands ran down Charles’s chest and across his stomach. Then, the left hand grabbed roughly at Charles’s hip while the other moved to unfasten Azazel’s belt.

Unbidden, Janos’s words from two years prior echoed in Charles’s mind, which was still cloudy from the drink. _Defiling those bodies…is the fastest way to be thrown out of this facility_. They would never let him marry Erik now. Erik. Somehow, a hiccupping sob escaped his throat.

“Oh, you’re desperate, aren’t you, slut? Crying for me to take you. Patience.” His voice sounded muffled, like he was calling to Charles from a long distance. Azazel spread Charles’s legs wide, and Charles turned his eyes – the last parts of his body under his control – to the door, not wanting to see Azazel take his pleasure. Azazel clutched his hips and ground down against him.

“Look at me, Charles. I want to see how much you’re enjoying this.”

But before Charles could comply, the door flew open, the lock broken. Azazel jumped away from where he had been perched between Charles’s legs, quickly trying to cover himself. Charles did not have that luxury, and he remained naked and spread on the mattress.

In the doorway stood Erik, with Shaw peering over his left shoulder, looking annoyed. However, he looked positively thrilled compared to Erik, whose face was…murderous. Apoplectic. 

“What exactly is going on here?” Erik spoke in a growl. His voice, too, was muffled. The dampened voices combined with the blurred vision gave Charles the strange impression that he was underwater.

Shaw tried to seize control of the situation. “Isn’t it obvious, Highness? Your provocative little omega is having a tryst with his bodyguard.” Shaw sneered in contempt.

Erik turned to Charles, who nearly blushed in shame. This was not how he wanted Erik to see him.

“Is that true, Charles?” Erik asked, calling Shaw’s bluff. “If you say it is, I’ll leave and give the two of you some privacy.” Charles, of course, stayed silent, his mind struggling just to hold onto consciousness.

“Look at that; he has nothing to say for himself,” Shaw said, grasping at straws.

“Oh, Lord Shaw, you must not know Charles very well. He always has something to say for himself. Indeed, he is incapable of silence.” Erik smiled at Charles, clearly trying to comfort.

Turning back to Shaw, Erik spoke again, his smile evaporating. “If you think you can persuade me that this situation is anything other than rape,” he nearly choked on the word, “then you have had far too much to drink tonight, Sebastian.”

Shaw’s face flashed in realization that he had been caught, and he backed slowly towards the door. Erik lunged at him, hand catching the fabric of his shirt. “You’ll be staying right here, Lord Shaw.” Erik then walked to the door, pressing Shaw into the doorframe by the hand on his chest. He leaned into the hall and called for guards.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Having you arrested.”

“For what exactly? I was not the one caught fooling around with your blue-eyed whore.” He nodded sharply at Azazel, who had been standing in stunned silence but whose face suddenly flashed in fury at Shaw’s betrayal.

Erik lost control of his pretense of calm, and his fist connected with the bridge of Shaw’s nose, the blow accompanied by a deafening crack. Blood ran over Shaw’s lips.

“Let me guess, Lord Shaw. Early tomorrow morning, when I came here to retrieve my mother’s ring to present to Charles as a token of our engagement, I would stumble upon him, sleeping peacefully in the arms of his lover. And, when he woke, he would of course cry rape. But, why would I believe him? After all, who sleeps cuddled against his attacker?” Erik’s voice was ice cold. “Unless, of course, you had your man administer sedatives?” Shaw’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Yes, Dr. McCoy told me about his missing stores. A pity, as my father has been in tremendous pain without those sedatives.” Erik raised his hand to strike again when four guards appeared at the door.

“Please have Lord Shaw and Azazel detained until I am prepared to deal with them. One of you, find Dr. Henry McCoy and send him here. Tell him to make haste, as this is urgent. He should be in my father’s chambers.” Erik dropped his hold on Shaw, with apparent reluctance, and the two men were escorted out. Only then did Erik turn to Charles, concern bordering on panic written on his face. He strode to the bed, approaching Charles like he would a skittish horse. He seemed conflicted for a moment, reaching out a hand to touch Charles’s face, but then thinking better of it. He absently swept a blanket over Charles’s waist to cover his nakedness. He knelt by the bed and held Charles’s hand, waiting for the doctor.

“It will be all right, Charles. Hank is coming. We’ll postpone the engagement, long enough for you to recover. As long as you need.” His voice was cracking. _Is he crying?_

“If they think they can stop me from marrying you now, then they’re fools. We’ll change the laws if that’s what it takes. I love you, Charles. Oh God, why did I say that? The first time I say I love you and you probably won’t even remember it.”

Charles wanted to bask for a moment in Erik’s love, but he was distracted and dazed by the drugs. _Stop you from marrying me? Why would they do that?_ At that moment, Hank arrived. Erik cleared his throat, but he was still visibly shaken.

“Hank, I think that Shaw drugged Charles. He can’t seem to speak or move. He’s completely unresponsive.” 

Hank was calm, a mark of his professionalism. He nudged Erik out of the way and looked into Charles’s eyes. “His pupils are dilated. He was likely given a massive overdose of the same drug I give your father. This will take most of the night to leave his system, and we’ll have a difficult time keeping him hydrated, but he’ll recover.” Erik shrank visibly in relief.

“Hank, when I walked in, he was…” Erik looked tortured. “Azazel was on top of him.” 

“Raping him?” Erik flinched at Hank’s straightforward question.

“That’s what I saw.” Finally, it dawned on Charles, his mind slowly fighting through the haze of sedatives. _No, no! I’m alright!_ This was why Erik was afraid their marriage would be forbidden. Because Charles was not a pure, virginal omega.

“I should examine him for signs of… trauma,” Hank was clearly trying to tread lightly, with Erik’s nerves so on edge.

“Wait until morning. I don’t want an alpha touching him while he can’t consent. He’s had enough of that tonight.” Erik’s jaw was tight.

“If I wait to treat him, he has a higher chance of infection.” Hank looked apologetic.

Erik looked at Charles, the back to Hank. “Just be gentle.”

“Of course.”

When Hank lifted the blanket away from Charles, Erik turned his head away.

Hank was very gentle indeed. His fingers barely brushed over Charles’s skin. _How many of these bloody examinations will I have to endure before I die?_

“Um…everything looks fine to me.” Erik glared at him. “No, I am not protecting your feelings, Your Highness. There is no inflammation, bleeding, tearing, or…fluids. I don’t want to minimize his suffering, but Charles has not been raped as far as I can tell.”

Suddenly, Erik was embracing the doctor in a rare show of emotion, actually sobbing into his shoulder.

“Thank God. Thank God.”

Hank looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Well, I’ll return to your father now. Charles will likely sleep soon. I’m honestly shocked that he isn’t already unconscious. Sit with him until he wakes, and then have him drink as much water as he can stomach, and then some more. I’ll alert you if your father’s condition improves or…worsens.” Hank extracted himself from Erik’s arms and exited.

Erik dropped to his knees beside the bed again and kissed Charles on the forehead. “I’m so sorry this happened, Charles. Sleep a little, love.” 

Charles complied.


	14. Chapter 14

When Charles awoke, he found himself thirstier than he had ever been in his life. Erik knelt by the bed, his head resting on the mattress, and his fingers intertwined with Charles’s. His jaw was tight.

“Stop grinding your teeth like that. You’ll chip one of them, and then what will Hank say?”

Erik’s head shot up in surprise and undisguised glee. “Charles! How do you feel?”

“Like every drop of water in my body has been squeezed out.”

Erik stood and poured a glass of water from the pitcher that had apparently been brought during the night.

After drinking the entire pitcher of water, Charles felt slightly better. A realization dawned on him. “Happy birthday, Erik!”

Erik chuckled. “You must be joking, Charles. This is the worst birthday of my life.”

“Even if I told you that I remember every word of last night, including a certain someone’s admission of undying love?”

Erik looked sheepish but pleased. “You heard that, did you?”

“Oh, yes. And something about tearing down the established order in order to marry me.” Charles mimicked Erik’s deep voice for a moment. “‘Charles, I will move Heaven and Earth and strike every law from the books if I must, just to be with you. The purity of your body means nothing to me, so long as I am yours.’”

“I was hardly that poetic.”

“Maybe I’m embellishing a bit. It was really quite endearing.”

“I love you, Charles.”

“I love you too, Erik.”

They smiled like idiots at each other. “Then marry me?”

“I suppose.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming, Charles.”

“Well, I have not been presented with a suitable ring to make people unendingly jealous.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Erik said with a sigh.

“I have very few virtues.”

“I’m aware. You’ll get your ring when you accept my proposal formally in front of the court. I can’t wait to see the faces of your insipid companions.”

That reminded Charles. “Speaking of insipid companions, have you arrested Lady Frost?”

Erik looked dumbfounded. “Are you delirious, Charles?”

“No, I am quite sure she was the one who gave me enough sedatives to calm a small village.”

Erik looked surprised. “And why would she do that?”

“Shaw probably convinced her that you would marry her if I was out of the picture. She is very ambitious, you know. She reminds me a bit of my mother.”

“Your mother?”

Charles remembered that he had not told Erik the details of his mother’s lifelong quest to become royalty. “Ugggh… I promise to tell you about her at another time, when I don’t feel like I’ve just been reanimated. But, speaking of parents, why aren’t you with your father this morning? Not that I am not pleased to have you here, of course.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Charles, you are soon to be my fiancé, and I love you. You were drugged and very nearly assaulted last night, and it would be unforgivable for me to be anywhere other than by your side. Besides,” here, grief was audible in his voice, “my father is halfway in his grave, and my duty is to the living, not the dead.” Charles pulled him into an embrace.

Charles had to tell Erik a dozen times that he was perfectly healthy (“For God’s sake, Erik, stop looking at me like I’m going to break!”) before Erik finally decided to move forward with the engagement ceremony as scheduled. His subjects seemed thrilled with the pomp and circumstance surrounding the tradition of selecting an omega consort, and he knew that they would need a morale boost. The absence of King Jakob at the ceremony would not be overlooked, and the populace would finally understand that their king was approaching the end of his reign. 

If anyone noticed that the king’s top advisor and one of the prince’s prospective omega consorts were missing from the audience as Prince Erik Lehnsherr slipped his mother’s ring onto the finger of Lord Charles Xavier, they said nothing. After accepting Erik’s proposal, Charles stood with him at the front of the throne room, waving gleefully at a cheering audience as bells tolled the good news to the entire kingdom. After a time, the bells stopped, and Erik turned to him, leaning forward hesitantly.

“If you’re going to kiss me, then kiss me.”

Erik chuckled. “I didn’t know if you would want me to, after last night.”

“I’m sure I will be facing the emotional repercussions of last night for a long time to come, but right now, I want you to kiss me.” So, Erik did, very gently because they were still such a public spectacle.

Suddenly, the bells began anew, clanging with an urgency that they lacked earlier. Erik stiffened in Charles’s arms, and the cheers of the crowd silenced almost immediately.

Charles pulled away. “What is it?”

Erik’s mouth was a tight line. “The king is dead.”

Charles did not know what to say, but his mind supplied the traditional response.

“Long live the king.”

At Charles’s words, the sobered audience bent in unison, bowing to their new monarch.


	15. Chapter 15

The next few months passed in a whirlwind. The wedding, which would traditionally have taken place exactly three months after the formal announcement of their engagement, was postponed due to the coronation festivities. Shaw, Frost, and Azazel were convicted on various charges of attempted rape and conspiracy, which Erik argued warranted death. Charles convinced him he was being melodramatic and was content with their banishment, which Erik granted. 

Although the royal wedding was postponed, the other happy couples all married quite quickly after Erik proposed to Charles. Moira and Sean planned and executed a wedding reception so lavish that Charles swore it was the most expensive wedding ever conceived by mankind. During the fourteenth course of the sixteen-course dinner, Charles turned to Erik and requested that their wedding be a smaller affair. Erik laughed. 

“The Cassidys are the wealthiest family in my kingdom. What would you have them do with all that money if they can’t spend it in ridiculously wasteful ways?”

For a time, the people of the capital fully expected a duel between Scott and Logan to determine who would marry the much-sought-after Jean Grey, who secretly found the whole thing very exciting. However, upon Charles’s request, Erik stepped in to arbitrate in their dispute. His solution was to ask Jean her preference, which seemed to take both the alphas by surprise but pleased Charles immensely. He took it as a sign that Erik respected the omega’s agency. Jean chose Scott and, for reasons that could never be explained adequately to Charles, seemed to genuinely enjoy his company. The wedding was held in the palace chapel. To Charles’s delight, Alex Muñoz was able to travel to the capital for his brother’s wedding, still looking a bit green at just over seven months pregnant.

“My goodness, pregnancy really does not suit you, does it? You look terrible.”

“Thank you, Charles. That makes me feel wonderful about myself.”

“I am so glad to see you, my friend. It’s been years. I can’t believe you’re married. How is Darwin?”

“He’s here in the capital with me. I’ll make sure you’re properly introduced this time. He’s doing quite well, as his body is not the size of a house, and he can stand the smell of eggs without vomiting. I hate him a bit at the moment.” Charles could tell from the look in his eye that his complaints were all for show. Alex was as much in love as he had been when he had met Charles in that carriage over four years prior.

The marriage of Logan and Angel Salvadore was a far less animated affair than the other two weddings, as the bride and groom were completely indifferent to each other. Angel, for her part, seemed pleased with Logan’s position as captain of the palace guard, and Logan was willing to provide her with the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed. In other words, he was aloof and she was spoiled, and the relationship somehow worked for the two of them. Charles remarked to Erik on their strange dynamics once, and Erik had laughed.

“Not everyone can marry for love, darling. Sometimes, a marriage is just convenient.”

Finally, the day of the wedding of King Erik Lehnsherr and Lord Charles Xavier arrived, and it was surprisingly reserved for a royal wedding. Erik claimed to his subjects that he felt that the restrained festivities were more appropriate for a wedding that followed the death of a king so closely, saying that an extravagant ceremony would insult his father’s memory. Charles knew that Erik had scaled back the wedding for him, and he would have teased him mercilessly for how easily he bent to Charles’s will if he were not so grateful for it.

Raven was the flower girl, and Charles cried when she arrived at the capital, emerging from the carriage with her frail mother in tow. Erik took a liking to the girl immediately, and he began to teach her chess in the weeks that she stayed at the capital. Traditionally, Lord Kurt Marko would have given Charles away at the ceremony, but for reasons left undisclosed to the populace, both Kurt and Cain Marko had been banned from the capital for life. So, Charles walked unaccompanied down the aisle, feeling a bit rebellious. Legally, he did not own himself, but his decision to give himself to Erik was entirely his own.

When Charles’s mother had approached him during the reception to drunkenly tell him how proud she was that he had pulled their family into the upper echelon of society, he told her quite firmly, “I didn’t do it for you, mother” and walked off. She shrieked loudly after him.

“You ungrateful child! I gave this to you. None of this would be yours if I hadn’t forced you into this world a little early!” Charles flinched at her public display of truly woeful manners, and he hated that she was right. Her decision to induce her own labor really had secured his chance to meet his husband. He decided that the hundreds of offenses she had committed against him over the years cancelled out any debt he might have owed her.

Charles was surprised at how nervous he was on his wedding night, as he and Erik had become best friends over their engagement. He trusted Erik completely. However, as he stood in the king’s chambers, being undressed by the king’s hands, his mind flashed back to the other times his body had been touched by an alpha. Stryker’s cold hands. Cain’s fumbling fingers. Azazel’s body pressed against his own. 

He stilled in Erik’s embrace, and Erik seemed to understand his thoughts and pulled back from where he had been kissing and sucking at Charles’s collarbone.

“Charles? Come back to me, Charles. I wouldn’t hurt you like they would.” He held Charles firmly by the shoulders.

“I know. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve been through a lot, Charles. And I won’t take you to bed until you’re comfortable with me.”

“Erik, we have to…”

“I know what’s expected of us, and if anyone has the nerve to ask me if I consummated my marriage on schedule, I will have them executed.”

“You are such a wise ruler, my king,” Charles replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But, please, continue with the consummation. I didn’t mean to interrupt with my brooding.”

“I think I know of a better way to make you feel comfortable, Charles.”

And, as the king dropped to his knees before him, glancing up and licking his lips obscenely, Charles knew that he had married a true gentleman.


	16. Epilogue

Erik slid beside him in bed, the terrible man already undressed from the waist up. _Temptress_ , thought Charles. Charles turned to face him, and Erik’s hand went immediately to his hair, pulling him into a kiss that felt too heated for a simple goodnight peck. 

Charles pulled away. “Darling, how long have we been married?”

“Five years. Six years in a week. Afraid I’d forgotten?”

 _This isn’t about our anniversary, you silly man_. “And how many children do we have?”

If the line of questioning bothered Erik, he certainly did not let it show, turning his attentions to Charles’s collarbone and then moving to bite gently at his ear. _No, not that, I can’t resist that._

“Just the four that I’m aware of, dear,” Erik whispered. _Why is he so attractive when he whispers?_

“So, clever man, how many children are we averaging per year?”

“Why don’t you tell me? As I recall, you’re the one with the fancy education.”

“If I round up and say we’ve been married six years, that is two-thirds of a child or .6667 children per year. If I am fertile for 15 more years, then we could expect 10 more children.”

“Charles, you sell yourself short. I could easily see you remaining fertile into your early forties.” His kisses were moving lower. Charles slapped his shoulder.

“So, you understand that if you touch me with romantic intention, I will be forced to have you castrated?” Sadly, Erik’s ministrations elicited a wanton gasp from Charles that rather took the steam from his argument.

“Charles, if you really wanted to put me off, you shouldn’t have started doing mathematics in bed. You know I love your mind.” Erik’s hand moved between Charles’s legs.

“You’re incorrigible.” Charles’s breaths were shaky now, his head thrown back against the pillow. "Well, I suppose we won’t maintain this level of fertility. After all, it is unlikely that I’ll have twins again.” 

“Famous last words, Charles.”

Charles relented.


End file.
